Moving in the Dark
by lucawindmover
Summary: In the aftermath of the triple sacrifice, Scott's pack is forced to deal with the repercussions of coming back from the dead. In addition to their internal issues, Beacon Hills has truly become a beacon once more, drawing enemies from the woodwork that the pack had never suspected to encounter… (3b continuation fic, multiple pairings)
1. Chapter 1a

Moving in the Dark

Lucawindmover

Chapter One

"Feel Something"

* * *

"_Love hunt me down, I can't stand to be so dead behind the eyes." _

_Daughter "Touch"_

Scott McCall groaned as his phone buzzed on the nightstand beside his bed. It was the third time it had gone off in as many minutes. The sun was up and peeking through the blinds but his alarm hadn't gone off yet. He'd hoped to get that last few minutes of sleep but it didn't look like he'd be able to. He glanced over at his clock and confirmed that he still had about ten minutes. He pulled his pillow over his head, praying that whoever was calling him would just wait a little longer. But it wasn't even a whole minute later when the phone started buzzing again.

With a grumbled curse, Scott threw the pillow to the foot of the bed and reached over for the phone. He recognized the number and sighed, sliding open the call and putting the phone to his ear.

"Stiles, what is it?" he asked curtly as he laid his head back against the now pillow-less mattress.

"I was just about to call Isaac to see if you were still alive. God man, answer after a few times, would you? I'm too young for a heart attack."

Scott grit his teeth a little, torn between wanting to reassure his best friend that he was fine and yell at him for calling so early. "Sorry, okay. You have my attention now. What is it?"

Stiles hesitated for a moment. "I need to talk to you about something really important. Like, vitally important."

"Is there a body?"

"What? No, it's not anything like that. It's—"

Scott interrupted him. "Has somebody been kidnapped?"

"No, man, it isn't _like_ that. It's just that—"

"Stiles," Scott interrupted again. "Look, if no one is dead or missing then it can wait until school, okay? It is just _way_ too early right now."

Stiles grumbled something that Scott couldn't make out and he immediately felt bad that he might have hurt his friend's feelings. "Man, I don't mean to be short. I'm just exhausted. You know, after everything that's happened."

"Are_ you_ having trouble sleeping?" Stiles asked. "Because I know_ I_ have been."

Scott thought about it for a minute. He hadn't really had any issues sleeping, except that it felt like that's all he wanted to do all the time. Exhausted felt like an understatement. He couldn't explain it to the others in a way that made sense though. It wasn't like he was expending any extra energy. He hadn't been staying up late or running through the woods in the middle of the night or anything. It was as if the emotional toll of almost losing his mother had just broken the part of his body that recharged after sleeping.

"It's more like I can't get _enough_ sleep," he finally answered, trying to frame it in a way that would be relatable.

"I _wish_ I had that problem," Stiles said. "I feel like I'm totally wired on caffeine all the time."

Scott snickered. "How's that any different than usual?"

"Ha. Ha. Funny. You should go into comedy with that one right there," Stiles said. "Anyway, can we talk?"

Scott rubbed his hand over his face and glanced at the clock. Two minutes and his alarm would be going off. "Look, I've got to get up and eat. But I'll meet up with you at school and we can talk then."

"Yeah, okay," Stiles said. Scott could tell he was a little disappointed but there was nothing that could be done about it now.

He hung up the phone and laid it on the nightstand just in time for his alarm to go off. He thought about snoozing it and getting another ten minutes of dozing but then changed his mind. He really needed to be at school on time today.

It was their first day back. It felt like the first day of school all over again. With everything that had gone on with the evil druid, homicidal alpha pack, sacrifices, and suicides, the parents who were in on things now didn't object to them taking a week to get their heads back in the game. It had been a calm week at the McCall house. Scott had spent most of his time sleeping. The house had been quiet because his mom had gone back to work and Isaac spent a lot of the daytime at Allison's. Stiles had stopped by a few times but his nervous energy had just been exhausting.

Before anyone was really ready for it, Monday morning had dawned. Everyone had agreed to be there today.

And he was the Alpha now. His pack wasn't just werewolves though. Stiles, Isaac, Lydia, Allison…these people were his pack. They looked to him now. They expected things of him. He had no idea how he was going to deliver on those expectations but he was determined to try. The first thing he needed to do was make sure he didn't fail his classes and take his friends down with him.

He pushed himself out of bed and threw on some clean clothes, heading downstairs to find something to eat before he had to be out the door. As he came through the living room he checked the couch only to see that Isaac was already up and gone. He'd been crashing on the couch for a while now, which didn't seem to bother him. He was just grateful to have a place to live. His blanket was folded and stacked with a pillow on the floor under the window. He tended to clean up after himself a lot better than Scott did, which was one of the reasons Mrs. McCall hadn't minded Isaac staying indefinitely.

Scott wasn't surprised to see that he was already out of the house. He didn't have a car. Allison had been coming by and picking him up to go places, but they only did so when they thought Scott was either asleep or not there. They were trying not to rub their relationship in his face. While they swore they were just friends and that there was nothing romantic going on, he knew they were in denial. It was just around the bend, he was sure of it. The initial shock of the idea of Allison with someone else had hurt him. But the more the thought about it, the more he was just glad that his two friends had managed to find some little piece of happiness in the midst of all the horrible events of the last few months. He was sure he was _supposed_ to be jealous and angry but he wasn't. He couldn't explain it but he felt very much at peace with them. He hadn't gotten around to telling them that yet but he intended to.

As he stepped into the kitchen, his mother came in the back door. Her dark, curly hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck. She had a folder of papers clenched between her teeth since her hands were full with a gallon of milk in one hand and keys in her other. She was tired, bags under her eyes, uniform scrubs wrinkled from a long night shift at the hospital.

"Hey Mom," Scott said, giving her a hug and taking the milk as she set her purse down on the counter. She hugged him back and he didn't even complain when she kissed his cheek. Almost losing her had made him appreciate all the little things that he'd thought were annoying before. He knew he wouldn't be taking them for granted any time soon. "How was work?" he asked before unscrewing the cap on the milk and chugging down the top quarter of it.

"Ugh," she said, ignoring the fact that he was drinking from the jug. She went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. "It made me wish I had vodka to put in this." She smirked as she poured the juice in a glass and drank it down in a few gulps.

Scott tucked the milk away in the fridge before he rummaged in the pantry and came out with a box of Pop-tarts. A whole box. Ever since he had become a werewolf he'd found that he had to eat two or three times what he used to eat. "Sorry to hear _that_. Anything, you know, not _normal_ come in?" he asked, taking a seat on one of the barstools around the island.

Mrs. McCall shook her head. "Nope. Just your usual car accident, flu, and one appendix about to burst."

Scott swallowed down one of the toaster pastries in three bites and then the other before tossing the rest of the sealed packages in his backpack for later. "I hate to eat and run but I've got to be on time today," he said, slipping off the stool and hoisting his backpack onto his shoulders.

Mrs. McCall gave her son another hug, knowing what he'd left unsaid. "Alright honey. But to warn you, your father is parked out there again."

He groaned and picked his motorcycle helmet up from the bench by the backdoor.

One of the great things about having spent most of his time over the last week sleeping was that it helped him avoid his FBI agent father. Agent McCall, as Scott thought of him, had apparently decided to take a short leave of absence after the events of the eclipse. He felt that he needed to be around to get to know his son and be a good example for him. He was staying in a motel room in town to be closer. But Scott wasn't having it. In his book, his father was dead. The man had left Scott and his mom to basically fend for themselves, choosing his career over his family. That was not the kind of man Scott thought he should be looking up to. If anything, he looked up to Mr. Stilinski and Mr. Argent. Those two understood familial obligations.

Scott stepped outside and saw his father's dark sedan parked on the street near the end of the driveway. The man jumped out of the car upon seeing Scott come out of the house.

"Scott!" he shouted as he made his way up the driveway. "Son, you have to talk to me sometime."

But Scott just put his helmet on, which muffled his father's voice. He swung his leg over his motorcycle and turned it on. The engine effectively wiped out what little he could still hear of his father. He wheeled the bike around and was annoyed to see that his father was standing in his way.

Scott revved the engine and waited while Agent McCall thought about whether or not to move. He must have finally decided it wasn't worth getting run over because he stepped to the side. Scott didn't hesitate and pulled back on the throttle, speeding off down the driveway and turning toward school. He didn't even glance back over his shoulder to see his father's expression. It occurred to him, about halfway to school, that for an instant he had actually considered running the man down. Part of him, the animal he held within, would have been very happy to spill that blood. It made his skin crawl to think of it. He shook off the feeling and tried to focus on making it to school.

* * *

Stiles Stilinski was in the hallway at school, waiting for Scott in his usual place at the top of the stairs. The other students were milling about, gossiping, frantically finishing forgotten homework assignments, the usual. But somehow, after the events of the lunar eclipse, Stiles no longer felt like one of them. If he were to be honest with himself, he hadn't felt like he belonged with his fellow classmates in a long time. He had spent far too much time avoiding death at the hands of one supernatural creature or another to feel like this English essay or that math assignment really mattered anymore. But he had to go through the motions. He had to pretend. Because if he didn't, he'd lose the last grasp he had on reality. And the reality was that while these monsters really did go bump in the night, he still had to pass History if he wanted to graduate on time.

He was pacing back and forth. He didn't mean to be. But ever since he woke from the tub of ice water at the animal clinic, he'd been this way, almost constantly in motion. He just couldn't hold still. It wasn't a conscious decision to be pacing. In fact, the less he thought about it, the more he did it. If he wanted to stop pacing, he had to actively tell himself to stop doing it. That nervous twitch, that feeling of a prolonged adrenaline rush, was starting to drive him nuts.

Stiles stopped and made himself lean against the wall to get out of the way of a group of underclassmen coming up the stairs. He started tapping his foot in place of pacing. He was leaning against the wall this way, arms crossed and foot tapping when Scott appeared from around the corner.

"Scott!" he shouted over the heads of his classmates. "Hey, Scott!"

His best friend's head whipped around at the sound of his voice and Stiles realized, belatedly, that there was no reason for him to have yelled. He could have probably whispered Scott's name at this range and the werewolf would have heard him. But he just shook his head and took the stairs down two at a time to catch up with his best friend.

"Hey man, what's up?" Scott asked, turning to his locker and dialing the combination.

Stiles shifted his weight from foot to foot, another habit he had invented to keep himself from pacing. "There's something I really need to talk to you about. I wanted to tell you about it all week but I…well I just wasn't sure what it meant. It's something about, you know," he stopped and glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "What happened on the _eclipse_."

Scott tucked his motorcycle helmet into his locker, grabbed a couple of his textbooks, and shut the door again. He turned and gave Stiles an evaluating look, seeming far more composed than he would have a few weeks ago. Not for the first time, Stiles wondered if this was one of the side-effects of becoming an Alpha.

"Come on," Stiles said, tugging on his friend's jacket sleeve when he didn't say anything. "Let's go to the library."

Stiles was in motion almost at once, glancing over his shoulder to see if Scott was with him. When he did, he noticed Lydia Martin farther down the hall. She looked as flawless as he'd ever seen her. Her strawberry-blonde hair was meticulously maintained, her clothes chosen with attention to detail, what little make-up she wore applied with perfection. She hadn't seen him as she stalked confidently down the hallway, garnering the attention of most of the boys in the hall.

One of these boys, a hulking behemoth of young man, was trailing along behind her, carrying what Stiles could only assume were Lydia's books for AP Chemistry and Calculus. When they arrived at her locker, she turned and kissed said behemoth on the cheek and took her books, winking and saying something that Stiles couldn't hear but that made Aiden grin.

Stiles had only seen Lydia one other time since leaving her at the animal hospital the night of the eclipse. After everyone's parents were confirmed to be alive and most everyone was determined to be none the worse for wear, they had all convened at the animal hospital again. It was crowded and tense and emotional as they were all able to heave a collective sigh of relief.

Aiden and Ethan had survived their necks being snapped by Jennifer, the homicidal druid. But in surviving, they'd lost their ability to meld together in their Alpha form. In fact, they'd lost their Alpha status altogether, reverting to their Omega status from years before.

Stiles thought back to that night, that feeling of meeting Lydia's gaze across the crowded room. It spoke volumes. She wanted to go to him, Stiles could feel it as surely as he could feel the ground beneath his feet. But she hadn't. Aiden had stepped up behind her, wrapping his overly-muscled arms around her, effectively claiming her for himself. Stiles had turned away rather than watch the show of possession and in doing so he inadvertently acknowledged it. Since that moment, Aiden had considered Lydia as his and she had certainly not done anything to dissuade him of that.

It had hurt. It still hurt, seeing the two of them down the hallway, chatting and making plans as if nothing had happened. But Stiles knew that something had happened with Lydia. When she had kissed him, when she pressed his shoulders beneath the swirling and icy water with her dainty hands, _something_ had happened. When he broke the surface of that same water and looked for her face, first and foremost, something had _definitely_ happened. But that tether, if it existed in reality, felt frayed and raw right now. He was just waiting for her to feel it too.

He turned away and continued down the hall to the library, thankful that Scott was more nimble now than he'd been back in his human days.

Once they were settled at a table in the back corner, Stiles started.

"Okay," he said, clearing his throat. "So, back when we were, well, _dead_, did you see anything? You know, besides the Nemeton stump?"

He watched as Scott nodded. "Yeah, I had that flashback to the night I was bitten."

Stiles shook his head and leaned a little closer. "No, I mean besides that."

"No," Scott said frowning. "No, that was all. Why? Did you?"

"Yes. I did," Stiles said with a sigh. He leaned back in his chair a little, rubbing his face with his hands. "I saw my mom."

Stiles didn't even have to be looking to know what Scott's reaction would be, but he did look anyway. Scott's eyes were wide and his jaw clenched, probably involuntarily. It was as if he didn't know what to say to this revelation. Stiles very rarely talked about his mother, even to his best friend. So the fact that he was bringing her up now must have been messing with Scott's head.

After another minute, Stiles started again. "Okay, so I tell you that I saw my mom and you react with Derek-like silence? Is that like, I don't know, an Alpha thing? Hmm?"

"What do you mean, you saw your mom?" Scott asked, recovering slightly and ignoring the Alpha jab.

"I mean I _saw_ her. Full on apparition or whatever," Stiles said with a gesture of his hands. "She was standing _right there_, talking to me."

"What did she say?"

Stiles slumped in his chair and ran his fingers through his messy, dark brown hair. "That's just it. I can't remember all of it. But I know it was something really important, something about her death. She wanted me to figure something out but now I can't remember what she was telling me. It's making me crazy."

"Dude, you were kind of crazy before," Scott pointed out with a half-smirk.

Stiles stared at his best friend with a dead-panned expression. "Really?"

"Okay, sorry. I get it. No jokes about this." Scott laughed and threw his hands up in defense. "So you saw your mom and she gave you a message that you can't remember."

"Can you say that in a way that doesn't sound like you're just humoring me? I mean, after werewolves, druids, and snake-lizard monsters, does seeing a ghost really rank as impossible?"

Scott shrugged. "You make a good point. But Stiles, just consider this for a minute, okay? Before you go making yourself crazy. You were _dead_. I'm sure Deaton could explain this better than I can but what if it was just, you know, brain chemistry?"

Stiles frowned. He'd really expected his best friend in the _world_ to be more supportive right now. But maybe he had a point. Maybe he really had just imagined his mother. It had been his greatest time of stress, both emotionally and physically. It wasn't outside the realm of possible that he would imagine it. But it had felt so real. His connection to her had been so strong. No, he hadn't imagined it.

But Deaton might know something about it. He might have an idea of why Stiles had seen his mother, or at least he might be able to explain how he'd imagined something so real anyway.

Before Stiles could explain that he was pretty sure his mother had been real, the bell rang. Scott stood, gathering his books and shouldering his backpack. "Come on, man. Let's go."

Stiles hesitated. "I'm not really done talking about this. You get that, right?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah man, I get it."

Stiles grabbed his backpack and followed Scott out. But Stiles knew that no matter what the werewolf said, he certainly _didn't_ get it.

…_to be continued…_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Welcome to my ideas for 3b! I have an intricate story planned, full of immersive plot, growing relationships, shifting friendships, and illusive bad guys. There will be love and death, humor and sadness. I truly hope you guys will stick around for the ride. This is my first foray into the Teen Wolf fan fiction world, so I hope you'll bear that in mind when leaving reviews. But please do review! I need to know if you guys like this so far, if you feel I've stayed true to the characters, if the pacing and plot feels realistic within the confines of the world we've been given to work with. Like any writer, I love to hear what you guys think. I should have the second half of Chapter 1 finished and posted within a week. Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 1b

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter One

"Feel Something"

* * *

…_continued…_

Lydia Martin felt her stomach drop as Stiles turned and headed off down the hallway, Scott trailing right behind him. For a moment, she had been sure that he was going to come over and tell Aiden to back off, to tell her to stop being an idiot, to generally make an adorable ass of himself. Hell, she'd been counting on it. She had been waiting for the other shoe to drop ever since that night at the animal hospital. But it never had. Now Lydia found herself wondering if it ever would.

For the first time in her life, Lydia realized that she had regrets. She hadn't had time for them before. What happened was in the past. You couldn't change it so why worry about it? She tended to learn from her mistakes but she never regretted having made them. Each decision she'd made or action she had taken helped mold her into the person she was. That had been enough for her. Regrets were time consuming and emotionally exhausting. She hadn't bothered before.

But now, as she watched Stiles turn the corner, heading toward the library, she finally understood why so many other people felt regret on a daily basis.

Maybe she should have gone to him, back in the animal hospital. No one would have called her out for it. Everyone was hugging everyone else. Tears were free-flowing. No one had been immune to the trials and tribulations that they'd all survived. She had _wanted_ to go him. She'd looked at his face, smeared with dirt from being in the collapsing root cellar and crusted blood from the head would he'd received in his car accident. She saw his big, brown eyes were red-rimmed from tears of relief. He was a mess and she desperately wanted to clean him up. She wanted to wipe the dirt, blood, and tears away so that she could find the Stiles she knew and cared about underneath. She wanted to find that sarcastic boy, that spastic and uncoordinated friend who had been by her side through all of the horrors of the last few months. She wanted to dust him off and fix him up and get things back to the way they were before, back before she'd helped him kill himself.

And then Lydia's biggest regret moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling the back of her hair and breathing her in.

Aiden.

Truth be told, they had each been using the other. Lydia knew that she'd started off as an assignment for him. He had meant to have her around as leverage and she knew that. But she'd been using him too. She'd kept him busy, distracted him. She'd gleaned what information she could from him, making sure whatever she could find went back to Scott and Derek. And even though they both figured this out, eventually, they still couldn't keep their hands off each other. He was her physical distraction, her way of keeping other boys at an arm's length while she struggled to figure out what she really wanted. And she was his undisclosed desire, his secret need to love and be loved by someone.

That he really did love her, she had no doubt. When it came time to draw lines in the sand, he'd chosen her side. He had fought and nearly died for her. He had put himself, literally, in the path of danger for her sake. She couldn't just discount this. But she also knew that she didn't return those feelings. She didn't want to hurt him but she didn't feel the same way he did. Not toward him, anyway.

Lydia was stuck. For the first time that she could remember, she couldn't see what her next step was. It was an intolerable limbo and she hated it.

"You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?" Aiden teased, leaning against the locker beside hers. He was wearing his dark motorcycle jacket, jeans, and a wicked smile that tended to cause her body to betray her mind. She had been determinedly not looking at him this morning for just that reason.

Lydia pulled her eyes away from the empty space at the end of the hall, turning them toward Aiden for the first time all day. "Of course I heard you," she said. Just because she had been thinking her own thoughts didn't mean she couldn't also hear and process what he was saying. "But I think what you have in mind will have to wait until after school. We'll need more time if we want to do that properly," she said with a wink. "Be at my house half an hour after school ends. No later or you'll miss your chance."

With that, she turned and headed toward her history class. She couldn't help herself, really. She was a girl with needs and Aiden was fairly competent at meeting those. She knew she needed to just make a break with him altogether because it was becoming increasingly obvious to her that he wasn't able to separate the physical and the emotional anymore. But she didn't have a back-up. She wasn't about to be without a way to be satisfied, not if she could help it. And on top of that, she found herself worried about his feelings and what it would do to their tenuous friendship. The break was coming, she was sure. She just wasn't sure when that would happen.

When she got to the top of the steps she glanced back and saw that he was grinning after her. The bell rang and the other students started toward their designated first period classes. In all the confusion, Aiden disappeared. She vaguely wondered if he would keep up the pretense of being a student now that she was no longer his assignment.

Scott was in her history class. It was one of the few courses that she took that wasn't advanced placement. His desk was next to hers in the middle of the room and he was there now, his backpack by his feet and his face in his hands.

Lydia took her seat to his right, pulling a notebook and pen out of her messenger bag. "_You_ look tired," she commented to him while their classmates continued to file in.

Scott groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I _am_. I swear I've slept more in the last week than I have in months and I'm somehow _still_ tired."

Lydia pursed her lips and took the cap off her pen. "Well, you've had an intense overload of your adrenal system. Your cortisol levels are probably still unstable. That can cause fatigue."

She looked over to see Scott staring at her blankly. Then she remembered who she was talking to and rephrased her statement. "Post-traumatic stress disorder? It makes you tired."

He seemed to understand that and nodded. Lydia sighed and turned away, looking toward the front of the room where a girl dressed in a horrid green plaid skirt and combat boots was taking a seat two desks ahead of her.

Lydia leaned toward Scott a little and gestured in the girl's direction. "Did we get a new girl while we were gone?"

Scott turned around in his seat, scanning the faces of their other classmates. "Who? I don't see any new kids."

Lydia shook her pen toward the girl in front of her. She had wavy dark hair with a streak of purple in it and looked vaguely Asian. She was bent over a notebook and had earphones in, bobbing her head to music as she sketched something. Lydia was sure she had never seen this girl before.

"You mean Kira?" Scott asked, brow furrowed. "Lydia, she's been in our classes all year. How are you _just now_ noticing her?"

First of all, with everything that had been going on this year it wouldn't have been surprising for one of them not to notice a new student here, or new carpet in the library there, or the extra row of tables in the cafeteria. But Lydia had noticed all of these things. She was sure that she would have noticed if this dark-haired girl had been sitting two desks up from her all year. She glanced around at her classmates but no one else seemed to pay attention to the girl. They would all be whispering and talking about it if she'd actually been new. But even the teacher seemed to look right past her, not bothering to introduce her or anything. All the signs lead Lydia to think that Scott was right but her pride wouldn't let her.

"No way," she said, shaking her head and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I would have noticed her before."

Scott scoffed. He pulled his backpack into his lap and unzipped it, taking out a package of Pop-tarts. "The same way you noticed it when Peter was possessing you? Or how about drawing all those Nemeton trees? You notice that?" he asked as he opened the foil wrapper and started shoving toaster pastry into his mouth, eating as much as he could before the last bell rang.

Lydia frowned. He might have a point. She had lost huge amounts of time when she had been possessed. There were whole days she didn't remember. And there were periods of time she lost when she was drawing those tree pictures. But this seemed different and she wasn't convinced. She made a mental note to ask Allison about it. She needed another person's confirmation that the girl had been in their classes.

Speaking of Allison, just as the bell rang, she skirted into the room, tucking her hair behind her ear and clutching her books to her chest. She quickly took the seat behind Lydia. Her face was flushed and she was breathing hard from hurrying through the halls.

_Or from something else_, Lydia mused. She smirked knowingly at her friend who gave her a shy grin in response as she went about opening her text book. That was all Lydia needed. She knew exactly what Allison had been up to before the bell rang. She had a good idea who had caused her friend to be late, but Lydia hadn't actually confirmed the Isaac rumor with her yet. It was another item on the list to talk to her best friend about.

But first she would have to endure history class.

* * *

His existence had been peaceful. In a warm and quiet abyss, his consciousness had floated, entirely without need of stimulus or sustenance of any sort. It had been his reward, he seemed to recall. From a time before his memory. He wanted for nothing in this place of restful contemplation. It was a heaven of sorts, one that he would be content to never leave.

But that wasn't meant to be. From somewhere he couldn't discern, the Calling came. It pierced him through his heart, his naval, his forehead. They were like hot daggers, searing the flesh closed even as it was ripped apart.

This was metaphorical flesh of course, as it wasn't his true body being torn from heaven. The Caller was bringing him back to the mortal plane for some purpose and he was full of hatred for it. He hated the Caller for tearing him from his heaven of peace and tranquility. Who was this Caller to think he could play with the old gods? No, _this _Caller would pay for interrupting eternity.

With a crash, he fell into the mortal world and it took him a long while to gather his bearings. After a time he realized he wasn't in his human form, but rather his tree form. He was rooted in a relatively ancient forest, by the measurements of Man, surrounded by other lush vegetation. But he could feel through his roots and his branches that this forest was only a fraction of the size that it had once been. Man was doing what Man knew best and was encroaching even here.

He reached with his senses, feeling the other life forms around him. His range wasn't very far as he was weak from his long slumber. He wasn't even sure if he would be able to shift to a more mobile form. He would need to, if he wanted to feed and grow in strength.

With a great groaning and creaking, he managed to pull his limbs into his trunk and pull his roots up from the ground below. It was loud work, and exhausting, but he managed to fold in on himself until he resembled a large boulder made of wood. Here he rested a moment before continuing to push the limits of his body. Out sprouted legs, four of them, and fur and antlers. With a final shaking, his stag form stumbled forward, mobile at last.

As he took a breath and rested, a few of his memories of Before began to come back to him. Somewhere in this forest his Beloved also rested. He wondered if she had been Called as well. If she had, perhaps this Calling wouldn't be as painful as the last had been.

He could feel her presence, but it was more like a footprint of her energy rather than her essence of being. It worried him and he dashed through the forest, heedless of its creatures. He could feel it in his very soul. Something was horribly wrong with his Beloved.

After what felt like an eternity of running in his exhausted stag guise, he straggled into the clearing where his Beloved had been put to rest all those very many eons ago.

His soul wept at what he beheld.

She was no more, his Beloved. Man had done this. Man had taken his tools and cut her to pieces. That evil and destructive species had sawn through her trunk, taking her precious body to the four corners of the earth for all he could tell. What was left of her, an enormous stump, withered and devoid of all life, remained as a scar upon his soul, taunting him.

With the very last of his energy, he willed himself into his human form and threw himself upon her roots, sobbing against the ancient bark.

Where his tears fell, tiny flowers placed their roots and struggled to open their blooms. He would cover her whole remaining body with beautiful flowers he decided. His poor beloved Nemeton. What had they done to her?

As he slowly made his way around her base, peppering her body with flowers, he sensed something. The Caller. The Caller had been here, and very recently. He could feel the Caller's essence permeating the area.

He was furious. Had the Caller done this to his Beloved? Had he been Called because his beloved Nemeton wouldn't perform whatever task was being Called of her? Well, he wasn't going to suffer the same fate. No, he would take care of this Caller. This would be the very last Caller, of this he was sure.

But he was too weak as he was. He could hardly hold such a complex form as Man. He would need to feed, and soon, or risk withering beyond usefulness.

He laid a kiss upon his Nemeton, promising her remains that he would be back soon. He could feel that there were humans in the forest. Who better to feed on than the very destroyers of the natural world?

"_And feed me, spark me up. A creature in my blood stream chews me up."_

_Daughter, "Touch"_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: And here is the rest! I have gotten such a wonderful response to this story so far. I thank you all so much for your kind words. They inspired me to get this chapter out DAYS ahead of what I thought I'd be able to do. Thank you so much. The more I hear from you guys, the more I want to write. Please let me know what you think. This part of the chapter was so much fun, and painful, to write.

_Chapter Two….A glimpse into Isaac's current state, among other things. Please tune in to find out how this continues…_


	3. Chapter 2a

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Two

"Inside"

* * *

"_I know it hurts. I know you're bruised, But it's only on the inside."_

_Thriving Ivory "Love Alone"_

It was getting dark. The stars were coming out and the crickets were just starting their nightly chorus. Isaac Lahey stood at the end of the McCall driveway, hands in his pockets, watching as Allison's taillights disappeared around the corner. He couldn't seem to wipe the stupid grin off his face and he was eternally grateful that there was no one around to see it.

In reality, there was no reason why he should feel about Allison the way that he did. There were dozens of reasons _not_ to, first and foremost being that she was his friend's ex. Also near the top of that list was the fact that she'd stabbed him with knives. Well, Chinese ring daggers, according to her, but what did that matter? They were still sharp and pointy and hurt like hell, regardless of what kind of knife they were. But she'd apologized for that and without actually meaning to, he'd forgiven her. It was less about forgiveness and more about understanding what had driven her there in the first place. He got it. So somewhere in the nightmare that had been the last few months, they'd forged a bond that he was comfortable with.

That in itself was rare for him because not only was he unaccustomed to having real friends but he was also inexperienced with being comfortable around girls. Back before he'd gotten the bite, he'd been a wreck around anything even remotely female. He would stumble over his words and get flustered, running more than one of them off with his lanky teen awkwardness. He had eventually just stopped trying, figuring that if he ever managed to go off to college he would work on it then.

Then Derek and the werewolf bite happened and everything changed. He finally had developed the confidence to talk to girls. And with that had come the realization that most of the girls he knew were shallow and obnoxious. Thus began his horrible internal track record.

First it was Erica. There hadn't been a boy in Beacon Hills High who hadn't been attracted to her after she became a werewolf. But she'd made him aware very early on that she wasn't interested in him. He wasn't anything more than her packmate and if he tried to overstep those boundaries, well. She had the strength to toss him around. Quite literally.

After that had come Cora Hale. He should have _known_ better. A couple of intense glares from his previous Alpha had been enough to squash nearly all of the attraction he'd felt for the shewolf. And then, of course, Cora's personality had nullified the last of it. He and Cora just did not work well together. In fact, while she had been in town, Isaac had found himself in Allison's company more and more often, avoiding Derek's sister as much as he could. He felt a little bad for Stiles, who was constantly saddled with her presence. Stiles, despite all his bluster to the contrary, was actually quite patient. So their partnership had ended up being a better working relationship anyway.

Allison had blindsided him. He hadn't been looking to discover feelings, not with everything else that was going on. But maybe that's part of why it happened. Neither of them had been trying for it. They hadn't meant for it to grow into what it had. He couldn't even pinpoint a moment where things had changed. It had been so gradual that neither of them had even realized it until Deaton pointed it out to them the night of the eclipse.

Isaac sighed and turned toward the house, limping a little. He was really sore. Allison was wearing him out. She'd popped his knee out of socket today but he was healing. She'd have felt bad if she'd known so he hadn't told her. He wanted her to be at her best. And if he didn't want to get hurt, he'd just have to get faster.

They'd been sparring a lot lately. If anyone asked what they spent their time together doing they'd both say they were studying. He wasn't sure anyone actually bought that excuse. In fact, he was pretty sure that everyone thought they were sleeping together. It wasn't as if the thought hadn't popped into his mind to cross that line, what with ending up on the floor so often with her foot on his chest or pressed up against the wall with her dagger at his throat. Maybe all the sparring was their way of burning off the sexual frustration. He figured if that was the real reason behind it then it wasn't working because the tension between them was getting worse by the day. Hell, the sparring might actually be making it worse. But neither of them were ready to admit that and give it up.

Walking up the driveway, he was thankful to see that Scott's motorcycle wasn't parked there. He seemed to recall that Scott had work tonight. Isaac didn't like him being one of the people thinking that he and Allison were more than what they were. He was the biggest reason Isaac had refrained from attempting anything more than friendship with Allison. Scott was his friend and more than that, Scott was now his Alpha. You didn't just date your Alpha's ex. It wasn't right. Even if Scott were to tell him flat out that it wasn't a problem, Isaac would still probably hesitate.

Unless Allison toed the line first. He would be hard-pressed to keep himself in check were that to happen.

He let himself in the backdoor, surprised to see that so many lights were still on. Usually when he got home on weeknights Mrs. McCall was already at the hospital and Scott was at Deaton's. His mouth watered at the aroma of beef roast in the slow cooker on the counter. More often than not, he'd had to fend for himself for dinner. He wondered what occasion would warrant a special dinner.

"Hey Isaac," Mrs. McCall said, peeking her head around the doorframe to the living room. She was dressed in her work scrubs but she didn't look like she was about to walk out the door, which was unusual. "I was hoping you'd be home before I had to go in."

Isaac smiled and dropped his backpack on the bench by the backdoor. "I figured you would have been there already," he said as he slipped his shoes off and kicked them under the bench. She'd never asked him to do that. It was one of those little things that he did out of habit because of how things had been done when he was growing up. He didn't even think about it.

She shrugged and grinned. "I told them I'd be late tonight. I have a surprise for you," she said, beckoning for him to follow her upstairs.

Confused, he did as she asked, taking the stairs two at a time with his long stride. Apparently his knee had finished its healing because it didn't even protest to the movement. He caught up to her in the upstairs hallway where she was standing, facing him, and grinning.

"So," she said. "I have a few things to say before you get your surprise," she started, making sure she had his attention.

"Yeah, sure," Isaac said, curious as to where she was going with this.

She held her finger up, indicating that this was rule number one. "Okay, so first. No more 'Mrs. McCall.' I get enough of that at work. I don't want it at home too. Just Melissa is fine."

Isaac smirked and nodded. "Got it. That'll be a hard habit to break but I'll try to remember it."

She smiled. "Good. Okay, second. Girls," she steeled herself, as if she really didn't want to have to say what she was about to say. "The rule is no girls upstairs. But I realize that Scott used to sneak Allison in often. They weren't _nearly_ as quiet as they thought they were," she said with a shudder.

Isaac felt his neck getting really warm at this thought and he realized it was jealousy, not embarrassment. Which also made him feel guilty. It was just really confusing, emotionally, so he put the thought out of his mind.

"Anyway, so I realize it's a rule that will probably get broken because you guys are teenage boys, but it's still a rule. Got it?" she asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

Isaac nodded.

"And lastly, I would never ask you to pay rent. Not in this situation. But you and Scott are eating me out of house and home. Feeding two teenage werewolf boys is breaking the bank here. So, I need you to pitch in a little grocery money, or else stop and pick up some things once in a while. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I can do that," he said, reaching up to scratch his head. "But, can I ask something? I mean, what is this all about?"

Melissa grinned again, her eyes alight with merriment. "It's about this," she said, swinging open the door to her right.

Isaac peered in and was stopped in his tracks.

Just yesterday, this room had been full of junk. They even called it the Junk Room. It had been full of boxes, bags of clothes to donate, pieces of furniture that didn't fit anywhere else in the house. There had been an artificial Christmas tree in here, still fully decorated, and rolls of wrapping paper, one of those light-up deer for the front yard. Isaac hadn't even been able to come in here because it was such a mess. It felt too closed-in for him. He would start to sweat just walking _past _this room.

And now it was empty. Well, empty by comparison. There was a twin bed, made up with his pillow and blanket from downstairs. His duffel bag of clothes was sitting in the floor of the closet, waiting for him to unpack. There was a table beside the bed, with a clock and a lamp. Instead of a desk, there was a card table with a chair. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a dresser tucked in the corner.

"I know it isn't much," Melissa said, walking in and motioning for him to enter. "But Scott helped me with it. He said you were claustrophobic so I didn't want to put too much stuff in here. Figured I'd let you do that part."

He was dumb-founded. His eyes darted all around the room, taking in the faded blue paint, the green and yellow checkered curtains blowing in the window, the oval rug centered in the middle of the hardwood floor. "This is for _me_?"

She nodded. "Yup. Provided you can stick to the rules. It's yours for as long as you need it. We're all one big family around here these days. You guys take care of me so I'm here to take care of you."

Isaac took two long strides and enfolded her in a rib-crushing hug. He didn't know how to make her understand. He hadn't had a real home in so long. First it was his horrible father, locking him in the freezer in the basement for anything as small as dropping a dish on the floor. And then Derek, who had thrown him out at the first inconvenience. Staying in the McCall house had been the most stability he'd ever really had, and that had been on a couch in the living room with his clothes tossed in a duffel bag.

She was giving him more than just a bed and ac closet. She was offering him a home. He couldn't help how his voice broke. "Thank you," he managed to get out.

She shushed him, a lot like his own mother had done so long ago. She returned his hug, rubbing his back in a soothing manner.

And he lost it.

The sobs came in terrible, body-shaking hiccups as all the horror of the last few months finally came crashing down on him. They had almost _lost_ her. He and Scott had come so close to losing her to that crazy druid. He couldn't handle it suddenly and he broke, tears overflowing as he buried his face in her shoulder.

She didn't even ask for an explanation. She didn't need one. She had been there. Instead, Melissa joined him, her choked sobs mixing with his. They had survived. But none of them had made it through unscathed.

* * *

"Hey. I'm here. Come let me in," Stiles said into his phone. He glanced back over his shoulder, scanning the parking lot. There were no other vehicles there besides his jeep, Scott's motorcycle, and Deaton's car. It was after hours at the animal clinic at this point so he hadn't expected to see any other cars.

"Wait, you're here where? At the clinic?" Scott answered, sounding confused.

Stiles couldn't really blame him. He hadn't warned his friend that he was heading over. But sarcasm was his default reaction to almost everything, deserved or not. "No, I'm waiting at your little werewolf den in the middle of the forest. _Yes_ Scott, I'm at the _clinic_. Back door," he said and hung up, putting his phone and his hands in his pockets. He turned and looked out into the night again. There was a light on right above the door and it was messing with his vision. He couldn't see into the darkness very far past the circle of light and he found that it made him nervous. He didn't used to get nervous in the dark. But then again, he didn't used to know what kind of creatures were running around at night, either.

Stiles jumped a little when the door opened and bumped him in the back.

"Just so you know," Scott said, stepping to the side so that Stiles could come in. "I don't _have_ a werewolf den."

Stiles snickered and moved past him. "Sure you do," he said, turning around to face him while walking backwards. "It's where you keep your little werewolf oven, obviously."

Scott shook his head and laughed in spite of himself, following Stiles into the main exam area.

Stiles hopped up on one of the metal examining tables and watched for a minute as Scott went back to sweeping the room. It seemed like he was mostly done. Everything looked neat and tidy, a far cry from the last time Stiles had been here. But he wasn't going to think about that right now because it would make him think about Lydia and he was determined _not_ to think about Lydia.

"So what are you doing here?" Scott asked, bending down to sweep the dirt pile on the floor into a dustpan. "I mean, if you'd just waited a half an hour I would've been at home."

"You remember how in the library I told you I wasn't done talking about my vision?" Stiles asked, swinging his feet back and forth. It wasn't as good as pacing but it would do.

Scott stood and moved over to the garbage can to dump out the dustpan. "Yeah."

"Well I wanted to do that," he said. "Finish talking, I mean."

Scott sighed and turned to his friend. "What else is there to tell?"

Stiles opened his mouth to answer and froze for a second, his brow furrowing. He closed his mouth and frowned, crossing his arms. "What's with you all of a sudden?"

"What?" Scott asked with a shrug.

"Don't _what_ me. You _know_ what. You're being all, I don't know, superior. Condescending. Like there's no way my vision could have been real," Stiles said.

The werewolf frowned. "It's not that I don't believe you. Trust me, okay? I'm not trying to be superior or whatever you said. I just don't want you to get your hopes up."

"My hopes? _My hopes_?" Stiles stuttered and threw his arms out wide. "How the hell do my hopes factor into this? Hmm?"

"Just listen for a second, would you?" Scott said, talking over his friend.

Stiles stopped and rolled his eyes, motioning with his hand for Scott to continue.

Scott took a deep breath and went on. "Okay, look. If it turns out that your dream—"

"Vision," Stiles interrupted. "It was a vision. Not a dream."

"Vision then," Scott said, a little annoyed. "If it turns out that your _vision_ was real then that's great. We'll figure out what your mother was trying to tell you. We will. I'll make sure that it's a priority. But Stiles, if it turns out that it was all in your head, that it was just your brain sort of reacting to you being dead, then you're going to be really disappointed. I just, I don't want to see you go through that, you know?"

Stiles wasn't sure what to say. Scott was right. If he did all this research and then it turned out that it was just his brain playing tricks on him, he would be devastated. He had already put so much heart and hope into thinking his mother had a message for him. Even if he were to find out _today_ that it was all brain chemistry, he would be hurt. But if he gave it another couple of weeks and then found out? Well, he was starting to understand Scott's reaction.

"Okay, you have a good point that I hadn't thought of," Stiles acknowledged. "But I have no idea how to figure out if I was imagining it or if it was real."

"See, I think Deaton might know something," his friend suggested.

Stiles jumped off the cold metal table, sending it rolling backwards into the counter. He heard it jostle some supplies but he didn't even turn around. He couldn't be bothered by it. "That is a _great_ idea. Is Deaton still here? We should go ask him."

"Yeah, he's in his office," Scott said, pointing toward the hall. Stiles didn't stick around for directions. He knew where the office was. He darted out of the exam room and into the hall, his sneakers squeaking noisily as he jogged to the office.

He burst through Deaton's door without knocking to find him sitting at an old, green metal desk surrounded by filing cabinets. He had probably heard Stiles coming because he didn't even look up at the intrusion. "Something I can help you with?" he asked as he continued to write on the form he had in front of him.

"Yes. Well, maybe. I don't know," Stiles said in quick succession. "Depends on how much you know about brains."

Deaton looked up slowly. "What kind of brains?"

"Human ones. Dead human ones."

Deaton smiled slowly, laying down his pen and folding his hands on his desk. "I think I can guess what this is about."

Stiles nodded and took a seat in the rusted folding chair in front of the vet's desk. There wasn't a lot of room in the office and he got the impression that this had once been a storage closet.

"You saw something when you were under, didn't you? Besides the Nemeton and the flashback you said you had?"

"Yes!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing his hands up. Finally, someone who seemed to believe him. "Yes, I did. How can I figure out whether it or not it was real?"

"Well, I can tell you right now that it was real."

Stiles blinked and dropped his hands in his lap. "How can you possibly know that? I didn't even tell you what I saw."

Deaton shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You were beyond the Veil. If someone or something came to you, it was real."

"What about brain chemistry and, and, I don't know, synapses misfiring or whatever? Science! What about that?" Stiles asked. He had to be sure. He had to know how Deaton was so sure. Because if he was right, that meant Stiles had seen his actual mother, the actual spirit of his mother.

"What we did on the night of the eclipse defied science. It defied medicine. It was magic, if you will, in its basic form. You and your friends parted the Veil and saw beyond," Deaton sat back in his chair a little. "If you're wanting a scientific explanation, I can't help you. But I think you already know that what you saw was real. Because if you didn't believe that, you wouldn't be here."

Stiles propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, covering his face with his hands. It was true. He'd known it in his gut from the moment it had happened. Some of those small details couldn't have been fabricated. She was wearing her favorite sweater, the one she'd jokingly called her "librarian sweater" because it seemed like something only a little old lady would wear. It was cream colored with narrow wooden buttons that were forever falling off. She'd worn it all the time. And when she'd gotten sick, it was one of the few articles of clothing she kept with her at the hospital. Stiles still had that sweater. For months after she'd died he had slept with it wrapped around his pillow. He'd kept it until it didn't smell like her any more. Now it was on a hanger in the back of his closet. But it was there. He hadn't let that piece go.

Deaton was right. He'd known it then and he knew it now.

Now all he needed was to remember what he knew.

…_to be continued…_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews guys. You have made it possible for me to write over 12,000 words in a 72 hour period. It's the most I've ever written in one chunk like this in my life. I love to hear from you. The more I do, the more inspired I am to get out chapters this quickly. So thank you all.

Now, as a reward, I have news. I've recently decided to dedicate my Twitter account to my writing. So if you follow me there you will get exclusive updates and quotes from upcoming chapters. It's another great way to share this wonderful fandom. So please look me up at lucawindmover. Thanks again.


	4. Chapter 2b

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Two

"Inside"

* * *

…_continued…_

"Come on, Allison. I told you about Jackson's and Aiden's. I mean, you told me about Scott's. What's the hold up?"

"Lydia! I swear I don't know the answer to that," Allison exclaimed into the phone as she fell backwards onto her bed.

"Are you kidding me?" Lydia said. "How do you _not_ know? What the hell have you two been doing with all those study session?"

Allison scoffed. "Well certainly not _that_. Is it so hard to believe we've actually been studying?"

"Yes. It is. Because every time the two of you are in a room together you're practically undressing each other with your eyes."

Allison closed her eyes and sighed. Unfortunately, there was probably some truth to that.

She had been doing a great job of ignoring it. For the last month, as she started to slowly feel things shifting between her and Isaac, she just ignored it. She didn't like the way he made her feel. Well, she _did_ like the way he made her feel, but she didn't _like_ to like it. It had felt wrong and a lot like cheating even though she knew that she and Scott weren't together any more.

But then Deaton had brought everyone's attention to the bond between them. Scott had looked at them more with resignation than anything else. She'd expected anger maybe, jealousy. But being calmly resigned? His reaction had really thrown her. And of course neither she nor Isaac had protested. How could they? She had turned her eyes to his and it was like all the tumblers in a lock falling into place.

And they'd both just kind of known. They'd known that their friendship had evolved along the way, whether they'd wanted it to or not.

A week later and they were both still fighting it. Not that it was easy. They'd been sparring. A lot. It was driving her crazy. All the adrenaline, their bodies pressing against each other, his face so close to hers…she'd almost succumbed to the temptation more than once and had started asking him to shift. She'd hoped that would be a deterrent, looking into his werewolf visage. But it hadn't. She'd still just seen Isaac, the same way she'd always just seen Scott. Any time his hand brushed hers she got chills. Any time she looked up in class and caught him staring at her, her stomach would jump. Any time he started to doze on the foot of her bed, in between a sparring match and actual homework, she'd wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Any one of those times had made her feel like crossing that line, of pressing her lips to his. She knew that once they did, once that first kiss was had, that would be it. They'd both fall over the ledge and there would be no going back.

Allison sighed. "You're just frustrated because of the men in _your_ life. Don't project your issues onto me."

She heard Lydia sputter. "What? What men? I only have Aiden. Well, currently."

"Uh huh," Allison responded. "Yeah, you aren't fooling me. I've seen the way you look at the other one. You can't play dumb with me."

There was a long pause. "Other one? Who, Ethan? Because honey, he's as gay as they come. And I'm pretty sure Danny can attest to that."

Allison rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. "Not Ethan. I'm talking about Stiles."

"Hmm, Stiles. Who is this Stiles of whom you speak?"

"What the hell, Lydia? The two of you spent the last month being practically inseparable. You think I didn't notice? Not to mention Deaton and his annoying night of reveals. You and Stiles share a tether. You wanna tell me what that's about?"

"Not particularly," she answered. Then she sighed. "Besides. I don't think I should. It was kind of private."

"Private?" Allison said, laughing. "Weren't you just asking me about Isaac's penis? How is yours and Stiles' thing more private than that?"

"It was an emotional thing, okay? Not a physical one. And it's just something I don't think he'd want me to tell people about. Can we just leave it at that?" Lydia asked, sounding a little more serious than Allison was used to.

"Yeah, okay. Fine. I won't push it," she replied with a frown. "But you know there's something going on with him, right? I mean, the guy has loved you since before he could tie his own shoes."

Lydia didn't reply right away. "Well, as far as I can tell there's nothing going on now."

"Because you have Aiden?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Look, can we talk about something else? You're really bringing me down here," Lydia said, reverting to the snarky tone she reserved for when she was feeling uncomfortable.

Lydia's behavior told her a lot more than her words had. Allison wasn't sure what was going on between Lydia and Stiles but she could tell it had her friend upset, whether she was willing to admit it or not. Allison had been of the opinion, for a while now, that her two friends were perfect for each other. They had complementary personalities. But any time she tried to point Lydia in Stiles' direction the girl balked a little. Allison had no idea what she was so afraid of.

"Look, it's getting late. I still need to shower before bed," Allison said. She pushed herself up to sitting and ran her fingers through her sweaty hair. She was still a mess from training with Isaac this evening. There was no way she could go to bed without a shower.

"Sure. Oh, but one thing I forgot, before you go," Lydia said. "What do you think of that new girl? The Asian one with no fashion sense?"

Allison furrowed her brow. "What new girl?"

"Kira something. She's in History with us."

"Kira Jones? The one with the purple in her hair?"

"Yes. Her."

Allison stood and walked over to her dresser, getting her clothes ready for bed. "Lydia, she's not new. She's been in our classes all year." She pulled out a pair of shorts and a tank top, tossing them on the foot of her bed.

Lydia was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure?"

Allison laughed. "Yeah I'm sure. She's in my French class, too. Why do you ask?"

Again, Lydia didn't answer right away. "I don't know. Something is weird about her."

"You mean the combat boots? Because don't even start. You know I have a pair of those."

Lydia laughed, but Allison knew it was her fake laugh. It seemed like Lydia was really serious about this girl. But Allison knew exactly which girl she was talking about. Kira sat two desks over in French. She was a quiet and always seemed to be sketching something, from what Allison could remember. But Allison had a really strong feeling that Lydia was wrong. There was no way the girl was new.

They said their goodbyes and Allison hung up, leaving her phone on her dresser and gathering her clothes up to take to the bathroom with her. She always liked to change in the bathroom after her shower, while the room was still warm and steamy.

Once she was done showering, she felt a lot better and really tired. She should have been, seeing as it was creeping toward midnight. She vowed to herself to make Isaac go home earlier tomorrow. By the time he left she didn't have any time to do homework before bed, or else she ended up like tonight and staying up far too late.

As she came back into her room, she felt like something was off. Suddenly, she was on edge. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her hands were itching for her daggers. But she was in just shorts and a tank top. She didn't have her knives on her. They were across the room on her desk.

She dropped her towel on the floor and moved slowly forward, taking in everything with her eyes. Her window was still closed. Nothing on her bed had been disturbed. She turned and looked in her closet, determining that nothing was amiss there either. Dropping to the floor, she checked under her bed. Nothing.

She was just about to give up, turning to pick up her phone and chalk it up to leftover adrenaline and thoughts of Isaac. But as she turned, she saw it. There, on her dresser. A muddy handprint. Someone had been in this room.

Allison darted to her desk, grabbing her daggers and backing out of the room. She moved from door to door, window to window, checking every lock. Nothing was out of place. She checked closets, cabinets, under furniture, behind curtains. But she couldn't find anything that wasn't exactly like it was supposed to be. The entire apartment was secure.

Reluctantly, she went back to her room to get a better look at the handprint. To her great surprise, it was gone, leaving no trace. She looked over every inch of the dresser but there was no muddy handprint anywhere, no remnants of dirt anywhere.

She frowned, taking a deep breath and forcing her hands to stop shaking. There had been a handprint there. She was sure of it.

Allison took a seat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dresser and clutching her daggers. She was pretty sure she wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

* * *

He had to admit that he felt much better. He was in his tree form again now, having just fed. He often wished he could feed in his other forms. It would be a lot more convenient. But such was his lot in life. He'd used his empathy control and willed the female jogger toward him in the forest. It hadn't been too difficult. She seemed to have been the weak-willed sort. Those were always easier.

He wasn't sure why the woman had been running alone at night but she hadn't seemed afraid for her safety. She'd run right up toward him, stopping to take a breath. She turned her back to him, taking in the scenery, and that's when he'd struck. One of his limbs, as sharp as any stake, shot out from his trunk and impaled her through the middle.

She didn't call out, for which he was thankful. There weren't any other humans nearby but that didn't much matter. He preferred quiet kills. He didn't like it when his food made noise.

He loved the feeling of parting the bone and sinew and pushing his limb all the way through a human being. Man. He was nothing but a destructive force on this planet and he didn't have patience for any of them. He never felt remorseful when they were his prey. In the past, when he'd been forced to feed on the animals of the forest, he had felt very guilty. He didn't like his forest to have to sacrifice itself for him. But Man…he had no qualms against taking a human's life.

Immediately, before her heart could stop beating, he began to draw in her blood. It was very much like how his roots drew water from the soil. Her blood and life energy flowed into his limb and was carried throughout his form.

He felt rejuvenated. He hadn't realized just how empty he had been before, how much a lifeless husk. But he could feel it now. He could feel his senses sharpening, his awareness becoming more broad. This wouldn't be his last meal, he knew. His abilities were far from their usual strength. But it was a step in the right direction.

After a few more moments, he withdrew his branch and shook his limbs, feeling her energy radiating through her. Then he looked down and saw her still form on his forest floor and he was disgusted. He couldn't bear for the body of this human to be in the same forest as the body of his beloved Nemeton. No. He would just have to move her.

With determination, he shifted down into his human form. It took a lot less energy this time, or perhaps he just had more of it to spare. He wasn't sure which.

He had to fight the feeling of revulsion that came over him as he bent to retrieve the young woman's body. Touching human flesh, even when it was clothed, made him feel dirty. Tainted. But it had to be done. The body had to be moved.

He tossed the girl over his shoulder and began walking. He knew he wasn't strong enough to go beyond the boarder of the forest. There would be many more meals needed before he had that sort of strength. But he could go to the edge of it and that was where he would put her.

As he neared the edge of the line of trees, he stopped to take in what he saw. There was a large dwelling of Man right near the edge. There were no humans in the building. They had all gone home for the night. But he could feel something else, something quite disturbing. He felt as if the building were filled with the bodies of trees but he wasn't sure how that was possible. How could so many trees, so many souls, fit into one small building of brick and concrete? He wasn't sure and he didn't want to dwell on it. If he were to start thinking on all the reasons Man cut down trees and used the bodies to their own ends, he would be sick.

Instead, he placed the woman on the ground just inside the edge of the forest. He would have rather laid her a few feet farther away but he couldn't go there. He didn't have the strength.

Where the body was positioned was good though. Other humans would be able to see it from the building and its parking lot. They would come and dispose of it soon enough. Then he would no longer have to agonize over the body being so near his Beloved.

He stepped farther back into the woods, pushing his body to become a stag once more. He wanted to run and there was nothing else in the forest that could run like the stag. But after only a few moments of bounding through the underbrush he was forced to stop.

The Caller was trying to tell him something. He wasn't getting words, however. Their connection wasn't strong enough for that. He could immediately sense that whoever this Caller was didn't understand exactly how to do this. He was getting pictures in his mind, visions, and feelings.

There was the image of a human boy, hardly more than a sapling really. And for reasons that weren't able to be explained through their connection, the Caller wanted this boy dead. The Caller wanted to use him to kill this boy.

He stopped and thought on this for a moment, deciding what he wanted to do. The Caller didn't have control enough to take away his free will, something he wasn't sure the Caller was aware of. At any rate, he would have rather killed the Caller than this boy.

But the boy was still a Man, and was likely to do as all Men eventually do. So he filed away the boy's face, unsure of what he would do should the sapling manage to wander into his forest.

"_I know you're lost and you're confused. It's only on the inside."_

_Thriving Ivory "Love Alone"_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: I can't even begin to describe how wonderful the response has been to this story. You people are amazing. What are some of the things you like so far? Are there any things you would change? I'd love to know.

Also remember to find me on Twitter under lucawindmover for exclusive updates and previews in between postings. I throw things up several times a day. It'll help while you're waiting for chapters!


	5. Chapter 3a

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Three

"Cries"

* * *

"_Little girl terrified. She'd leave her room if only bruises would heal. A home is no place to hide."_

_Britt Nicole "When She Cries"_

The first thing Lydia noticed was how her body was extremely tense. It hurt. It felt as if every muscle she had was tensing without her permission, twisting her into a meaningless lump of pain. There was a horrible noise in the background but she couldn't focus on it long enough to figure out what it was. Vaguely, she noticed that she was pushing herself up against the headboard, as if trying to escape from the sound she was hearing. She hadn't even remembered sitting up.

She did notice that her room was dark so she must have just been asleep. She decided that had to be part of why she felt so disoriented. Her body was still reacting violently, convulsing. She pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to get some relief from the clenching sensation in her belly. She knew she'd felt this way before, that this was somehow familiar, but she couldn't wrap her head around what was happening. Her hands gripped the pillows that she was now sitting on, fingers white-knuckled with fear and pain.

Then she realized what should have been most obvious. She was screaming. The horrifying sound in the background of her thoughts was actually coming from her own mouth.

It was her banshee wail. And as soon as she realized she was doing it, it was as if someone flipped a light switch in her brain. She just closed her mouth and stopped. Her body instantly relaxed, stopping its incessant cramping, but her heart was still racing and her breath was still coming in short pants.

This was the first time she'd been so aware of what was going on. It had been some time now since a death had woken her in the middle of the night, wailing. But since the last one, she'd had time to come to terms with what she was and what the screaming meant. The last time it had woken her like this, she'd been terrified. She'd thought she was going insane. She still might, eventually, but she knew she wasn't crazy right now and that was what was important.

Right now she knew exactly what it was. There was someone out there, dead. A body. There was a dead body. With that realization came the sudden urge to be moving. She jumped to her feet, spilling a book onto the floor that had been on the blanket next to her. She needed to be moving. She quickly reached over and turned on the lamp beside her bed and then began pacing. She had to go find this body. It wasn't an actual thought. She wasn't really thinking about going to find it. The urge was something much more, a compulsion that she couldn't ignore. It was a physical need.

It was a need that she attempted to put on hold for a moment while she tried to figure out what to do. She wasn't going to go driving around town, all alone, looking for a corpse. Especially considering that whatever had caused this body to be dead was likely out there somewhere still. So, taking a deep breath to try and calm her anxiety, she picked her phone up from the night stand and dialed a number.

Lydia started to tap her foot impatiently while waiting for a response. She was seconds from hanging up and going it alone when he finally answered.

"Hello?" said a groggy Stiles on the other side.

"Stiles. It's Lydia. Are you awake?"

"Lydia?" There was a moment of silence. "Lydia Martin?" he asked, his mind clearly still half-asleep.

"Yes Stiles, it's me. For goodness sakes, how many Lydias do you know?" she asked as she switched the phone from one side of her head to the other.

"You have the worst timing ever," Stiles said. "Seriously. I've only been sleeping like three hours a night. How did you manage to pick that exact time to call me?"

She sighed and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to hang up on him and just go find the body by herself. "I suppose a nice hello is too much to ask?"

Stiles groaned, apparently checking the clock. "Actually, at two in the morning, yeah. It's too much to ask."

"Well, okay. How about this then," Lydia started. "Do you remember back when the sacrifices first started and I found that body by the pool?"

"Please tell me you didn't call me in the middle of the night to reminisce. I swear to god I will hang this phone up_ right_ now."

"Would you listen? I don't have much time."

This grabbed his interest and he seemed to wake up a little better. "Time before what? It's the middle of the night."

"Oh, is that what it means when it gets all dark like this?" She responded in a huff. "I don't have much time before I have to go find the body."

Now he was fully awake. She could hear it in his voice. "What body, Lydia? Where are you?"

She gulped. The longer she stood here, the harder it was to focus on what she was saying. She wasn't doing her job. She was supposed to be out there, searching. Her stomach was in knots fighting the urge to leave. "I'm still at home. I woke up, wailing. Stiles, there is a body out there somewhere and I don't want to go find it all by myself."

She heard a crash on the other side of the phone. It sounded a lot like he'd dropped it. "Lydia," he said loudly, as if dropping the phone had somehow made her deaf. "Lydia, don't go anywhere, okay? I'm coming to get you."

Lydia grit her teeth. "I don't know if I can wait. I feel like I really have to move. Like I have to go right now, Stiles. Right now."

"Don't! Don't go. Just, put some clothes on and wait for me. I'll be there in ten minutes."

She took a deep breath, making her brain focus long enough to say something, anything that would pull her out of her anxiety. She had to focus on something else. Anything else. "How do you know that I'm not wearing clothes?" she asked with a smirk that she was glad he couldn't see because she was sure it was more of a grimace.

Stiles scoffed. "You said you woke up wailing, right? You don't wear those insane high heels to bed, do you?"

Lydia laughed shakily. Clever Stiles. He was right of course. She'd been on the verge of leaving the house barefoot in just a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt. "Okay, good point. You better leave now, though. It's really hard for me to hold off on this. I've never tried to hold it off before. I never really knew what I was doing before."

In the background, she could hear the door to his jeep slam. How in the world had he managed to get out of the house already? Was she already losing pieces of time? She hoped not. Losing time, more than anything else, made her feel crazy. It made her feel like she couldn't trust the memories that she did have because they were strung together all haphazardly.

"I'm already on my way. Are you still there?" she heard him ask. But it felt distant. She was losing it. If she didn't start moving soon, she'd stop being able to think through it.

"I'm still here," she said in a tiny voice. "But I have to start moving. Can you stay on the phone with me?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

Lydia put her phone on speaker and set it on her dresser. She pulled a pair of jeans out of her drawer. She rarely wore them because she felt like they made her look shorter than she was. But that didn't matter right now. They were far more practical than one of her many short skirts. And while she wasn't particularly known for being practical in regards to her fashion, she wasn't in the mood to go traipsing through the dark on a search for a corpse in a dress and heels.

"You there?" Stiles asked. "You got really quiet over there. Hello?"

"I'm right here. I'm putting clothes on, okay?"

"Like right now? You aren't wearing anything? I mean, of course you are but you're changing it? Right now?"

"Oh god, stop imagining me naked and just drive, would you?"

Stiles sputtered. "That's not…I mean I wasn't…I was just…Oh my _god_, woman."

Lydia laughed at his discomfort, thankful for something to focus on, and grabbed the only pair of sneakers she owned from the bottom of her closet.

From the phone she heard a series of clunks and rustling and muffled curses from Stiles.

Lydia paused in the middle of tying her shoes. "Stiles? What happened?"

"I dropped the phone again. It's harder to talk on the phone and shift gears than they make it out to be in the movies."

Now that she'd been moving around with purpose, she was feeling a little less anxious. "How far out are you?" she asked, reaching in her closet for a jacket.

"Five minutes? Maybe less?" he answered.

She slipped her arms into the jacket sleeves, starting on the buttons. "Look Stiles. Just hang up and drive safely, okay? I'm starting to feel better because I'm moving around. I'll be fine now, I swear."

"Ugh, okay. I just got a text from Scott anyway. I bet all the werewolves heard your wail, too."

Lydia hadn't thought of that, but it was probably true. Back when Jennifer had been trying to lure Derek back into Beacon Hills, she made Lydia use her banshee wail to summon him back. All the werewolves had heard it then. She was willing to bet she was only a minute or two from getting a call or text from Aiden.

Aiden. She hadn't even thought of him. She'd thought of Stiles first. Stiles was the only person she thought of when supernatural occurrences were involved, which was strange considering he was one of the few normal humans in their group anymore. He was her friend and lately he'd been her partner in crime. It had felt natural, picking up her phone and dialing his number. But now she was wondering why that was. Shouldn't she have called her boyfriend, or whatever Aiden was to her?

"Good point," she said quickly. "See you in a few." She closed the call and sat on the edge of her bed. She needed a minute. She could feel the anxiety about the death as a steady thrum throughout her body but now a new nervousness was setting in.

What was she doing with Stiles? Allison had asked her almost that same question earlier tonight on the phone. What was Stiles to her, really? They were friends at the very least, she knew. But she had been his tether. She had been his anchor to the world of the living when he gave his life in search of the Nemeton and his father. It hadn't been Scott, who he'd known his whole life. It had been her. She could feel that link now, even if she hadn't been able to before. But it was so complicated to her. She hadn't had feelings for a boy since Jackson, she'd made sure of that. Everything that had happened with Jackson had broken her heart, torn away a little part of her that she wasn't ready to try and retrieve.

But she missed it. And she had the distinct feeling that it was inside of her hyper-active friend, the boy with the warm brown eyes.

* * *

Instead of trying to read Scott's text while driving, Stiles dialed his number and put the phone on speaker before tossing it in the passenger seat.

It only rang twice. "Stiles! What is going on?" Scott asked by way of greeting.

"Yeah, hi to you too," Stiles said. "What did your message say? I didn't read it. I'm driving."

"Driving? Lydia did her banshee thing a few minutes ago. That means someone is dead, right?"

Stiles nodded, realized Scott couldn't see him, and then took a corner too hard and groaned as his phone slid off the seat and into the floorboard. It was only a matter of time before he broke the stupid thing.

"Damn it. Scott! Can you hear me?" Stiles shouted, forcing himself to slow down. It wouldn't help anyone if he crashed his Jeep on the way to Lydia's house. He'd just gotten it back from the body shop from the last time he'd hit a tree.

"Yeah. Man, what is going on over there?"

Stiles sighed. "I told you I'm driving. The phone's in the floorboard. Okay, so Lydia called me. I'm on my way to her house to pick her up. She said there's a body out there somewhere and she has to go find it. Like, _has_ to. Doesn't have a choice. She sounded all messed up about it on the phone, all twitchy and whatnot."

"But she's okay? She's not in danger?"

Stiles ran his hand through his hair nervously. "Yeah, I think so. She wasn't being attacked or anything."

"That's good at least," Scott said. "Do you want me to meet you over there? I should come with you guys."

Stiles could read what was left unsaid. He and Lydia were only human. If they were out by themselves, something big and bad could get them. Sometimes it was really frustrating being the only human left in the group. Well, Lydia was kind of human. She just had supernatural tendencies. And Allison was technically human, though her speed, reflexes, and intelligence left him feeling like the supernatural world was horribly outmatched.

"No, don't worry. I'll keep you posted. It's just body duty," Stiles said, trying for humorous and failing.

"I don't know if I want you guys out there alone," Scott said. What he meant was that he didn't want them out there without a werewolf body guard.

Stiles felt his shoulders relax as he pulled up to the Martin residence. He almost honked the horn but then remembered that it was after two in the morning and Lydia's mother wasn't likely to be happy with her daughter having strange guys driving up and honking in the middle of the night.

"Scott, I need some time to talk to her, okay?" he finally admitted. He threw his jeep into neutral, pulled the parking break, and reached over to pick up his phone off the floor. "Let us do this thing and I'll call you later with what we find. If there is any hint of trouble, I promise I'll call you. Or better yet, maybe Lydia will do her wailing thing. Because I'm pretty sure the next time I so much as look at my phone it's going to crumble into pieces."

Scott hesitated. But in the end, Stiles knew that his best friend would cave. "Okay. But be careful, man. I don't want to wake up and find out that you guys were eaten by something."

Stiles snickered, bidding his friend goodnight as he noticed the petite red-head coming out the front door.

He couldn't help but stare. Even in the middle of the night, her hair in a messy bun, wearing jeans, a jacket, and a half-mad expression, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. He thought she was more beautiful like this rather than all made-up.

She climbed into the passenger side and slammed the door, reaching for her seatbelt. She froze as she realized he was staring. "What?" she snapped as she clasped the seatbelt and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Huh?" Stiles said and then realized he was ogling her. "Oh, uh nothing. Yeah. Nothing."

"Go ahead," she said with a wave of her hand. "Comment on my attire. Do it."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Lydia, do I really look like someone who cares anything about fashion or whatever? I mean, seriously?"

Lydia's eyes did a once over on him, taking in his wrinkled gray pants, black t-shirt and long-sleeved flannel shirt which wasn't buttoned right because he'd been in a hurry. She laughed softly.

Stiles felt his cheeks get warm as he looked away from her, releasing the parking break. "I was only going to tell you that you're beautiful, but I'm sure you hear that from Aiden all the time."

He could see her tense up from the corner of his eye and he wished he could take those words back. He didn't want to bring up Aiden. What was he thinking?

"It's not true," she said so softly that he almost didn't hear it.

Stiles furrowed his brow and turned his eyes back to hers, which were downcast. "What's not true? That you're beautiful? I know that I've told you that a thousand times and if any-"

"Not that part," she interrupted. She was still looking down at her feet. "Aiden. He doesn't tell me that." She paused and glanced up at him through the fringe of her dark lashes.

A string of hurtful and inappropriate responses flew through Stiles' head. Like how maybe if they kept their mouths off each other for a few minutes, he might get the chance to tell her. Like how if she'd picked a guy because of his personality, rather than is physique, maybe she would hear that every day.

But he settled for shaking his head. "Well, then he's a moron," Stiles said, shifting into first and pulling the Jeep away from the curb. "But then that's not news to anyone."

Lydia feigned hurt, reaching over to shove his shoulder. But it wasn't particularly convincing, seeing as she smiled immediately afterwards.

"So where are we going?" Stiles asked after a moment of quiet. "I mean, how does this work? Are you just kind of like, I don't know, a blood hound or something? Do you have to follow a trail or whatever?"

She didn't answer and he could feel her eyes boring into the side of his skull. He looked over to see her mouth hanging open. "What?" he asked, slowing the Jeep down in confusion.

"Tell me you did _not_ just call me a blood hound."

Stiles grinned sheepishly and shrugged. Here he was calling her beautiful one minute and comparing her to a dog the next. He could hear Scott in his head, saying there was no wonder he was still a virgin.

"Turn left up here," Lydia said. A glazed look came over her face. It was incredibly unsettling and Stiles looked away, turning just like she said and following the street toward the other side of town.

The next ten minutes continued this way. Stiles was incredibly tense. Lydia had fallen into what seemed like a trance. She had the presence of mind to tell him which ways to turn but was completely unresponsive to any of his attempts at conversation or humor. She stared out the windshield, blinking slowly and not reacting to anything that she was seeing. It was creeping Stiles out in a bad way and all he could think about was getting to the right location so that he could snap Lydia out of it.

"There," she said, lifting her arm and pointing to the Beacon Hills Public Library. It was the first time she'd moved since she slipped into her body-finding trance. He pulled the Jeep into the parking lot and turned it off.

Lydia still seemed really out of it.

"Lydia, can you hear me in there?" he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning toward her.

She didn't move. Stiles reached over and touched her shoulder. No reaction. He then grabbed her shoulder and shook her a little. She wobbled and turned to look at him but there was no recognition in her eyes. They were glassy, like a doll's eyes.

He was pretty sure she was in shock. He'd seen it before, just not in Lydia. He didn't know how to fix this. It was like she was stuck. He needed to jar her out of it. There had been a few times that he'd needed to do that before, but that had been mostly Derek and involved punching and slapping. There was no way he was going to slap the girl in front of him, no matter how badly he needed to pull her out of this weird banshee trance.

A sudden thought came to him and he prayed to any gods who would listen that she wouldn't hate him for it afterwards.

Without wasting another second, he reached over and cupped her cheeks in his hands, pressing his lips to hers in hopes of shocking her out of it.

He felt her tense immediately. He opened his eyes in time to see hers flutter closed. And then, miracle of all miracles, he felt the slight pressure of her leaning into his lips. The hesitant feel of her returning his kiss.

Suddenly, he was the one stunned and unable to react. Lydia was kissing him? Well, technically he was kissing her first, but who cared who was kissing who really? Kissing was happening and Stiles wished, for once, he could just turn his brain off.

Involuntarily, as if his body understood what to do even if he couldn't get his brain to cooperate, Stiles smoothed her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, slipping is hands down to her neck instead. He felt her breath hitch as he did so and she pressed toward him a little closer. When her tongue darted out to brush against his bottom lip, he was sure he was dreaming.

As much as he didn't want to, he slowly broke the kiss, keeping his forehead pressed to hers and his eyes closed. He didn't want anyone to be able to say that he'd taken advantage of her. He would never be able to stand it if she thought he had.

His breathing was heavy as he waited for some sort of response.

"Stiles?" she finally said quietly.

"Hmm?" he responded, his hands still resting lightly on her neck and his forehead still touching hers.

"This keeps happening, doesn't it?"

He wasn't sure which thing she was asking about. Reluctantly, he released her and sat back, taking in her expression. Her cheeks were flushed and her hazel eyes were round and thoughtful.

"Which part?" he said with a sigh.

She gulped. "The, uh, kissing. The kissing part," she said, uncharacteristically stumbling on her words a little.

Stiles looked down at his hands. "Yeah, look. Sorry about that. I just, well I thought you were stuck in your trance and I was trying to shock you out of it. I mean, I remembered that if it could fix me when I was having my panic attack then maybe it would help pull you out of it. I didn't know what else to do and I—oomf."

He was cut off mid-sentence as she took his face in her hands and pulled him back toward her, her lips moving against his in sudden desperation. He didn't freeze again. And when her tongue escaped her lips this time he captured it with his own, deepening the kiss. One of her hands fell to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him closer. Her other hand gripped the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

Even as it was happening, Stiles realized this was their first real kiss. It was the first one where they had both been willing participants. Both of his hands were in her hair, one of his thumbs brushing the delicate shell of her ear, causing her to shudder. He filed that reaction away, hoping he'd have reason to remember that in the future.

The friction of her mouth against his, the taste of her lips and scent of her hair, it was all sensory overload to him. He'd kissed a girl before but never like this. The imaginary tether that bound them together felt like it was wrapping them up, tying them closer in some warm bundle. His heart was beating so frantically he was sure that she could hear it, human or not.

As quickly as it had started, it ended. Lydia broke the kiss this time, pulling back quickly and clamping both her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.

Stiles had no idea how to react. He was disoriented, as if he'd just woken from the most wonderful dream. He sat, holding his breath, waiting for her to say or do something.

After a moment, she seemed to compose herself. She reached down to smooth her skirt and then realized she was wearing long pants and froze.

"That can't happen again," she said making eye contact with him.

Stiles sputtered. "But I…but you…it was…wait, what?"

Lydia shook her head. "I can't. There's Aiden. And I need to go find this body. And, um Aiden. So…yeah."

Stiles looked away for a moment and then turned back to her, his hands gesturing wildly. "But you felt that, didn't you? Hmm? What was that? What was that right there, that feeling? Do you have that with your precious Aiden? Hmm?"

At this Lydia finally seemed to get angry. "Just drop it okay, Stiles? I just…I shouldn't have done that. We shouldn't have done that. It's all just, well it's too confusing right now, okay?"

He slumped back in his seat, propped his elbow up on the door, and placed his head in his hand. "Confusing doesn't_ begin_ to cover it," he mumbled.

…_to be continued…_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Wow, talk about a chapter getting away from me. The first half of this one is almost a thousand words longer than I'd intended. But that's because the characters keep doing and saying things that weren't originally in my outline! I know, it's easy to blame them, they can't fight back. Anyway, thanks so much for the reviews guys. They mean the world to me. There are some awesome predictions going around and wonderful guesses. I hadn't realized just how much mystery I had in this story until I was reading a few of your responses. So keep them coming! I'd love to know what you guys think is going to happen next!

Also, remember you can find me on Twitter at lucawindmover. My followers are getting lots of fun updates and exclusive quotes and mentions, so please make sure to join us!


	6. Chapter 3b

Moving in the Dark

Lucawindmover

Chapter Three

"Cries"

* * *

…_continued…_

"Scott!" Isaac shouted from the hallway. "I swear to god, if you don't answer your phone I might have to _kill_ Stiles."

For the second morning in a row, Scott was rudely awakened before his alarm clock could go off. Still groggy, he sat up and flopped his hands in his lap. "What?" he croaked and cleared his throat.

Isaac took this as an invitation and stormed through the doorway, tossing his phone on the bed beside Scott. "When you didn't answer your phone, Stiles started texting me. And calling me. And then texting me some more. Seriously, is your phone on _silent_ or something?"

Scott reached over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. It was totally dead. He'd remembered plugging it up after talking to Stiles a few hours ago so this exact situation _wouldn't _happen. In fact, the cord was still plugged into it. But as he pulled it a little, he realized what the problem was.

"You've got to be _kidding_ me," he said, groaning as he held up the end of the cord that was definitely not plugged into the wall. He sighed and dropped the phone and charger both in his lap, bringing his hands up to his face to rub his eyes. "Sorry, Isaac," he said through his hands. "My phone is completely dead."

"Well just use mine then," he said. "There's no point in even going back to bed now. Might as well get up at this point."

Scott watched as he left the room, heading toward the bathroom to get a shower.

He was just about to dial Stiles' number when Isaac's phone started buzzing in his hands. He opened the call but wasn't even able to say something before being audibly assaulted.

"Oh my _god_, will someone tell me what the _hell_ is going on?" Stiles shouted through the phone.

"Stiles!" Scott said, getting his attention. "Sorry, man. My phone died."

"Me and Lydia are out searching the town for a dead body in the middle of the night, _alone_, and you think that's a good time to let you phone die? Really?"

Scott shook his head. "What did you guys find? Was it a werewolf or do you think it was something else?" he asked, skipping the explanation. He could tell him about it later.

"Oh, so you actually _are _concerned about that. Great. Okay, so here's what happened," Stiles started. "There definitely was a body. It was just inside the woods over by the library. Victim was female but I couldn't tell how old. She was facedown and I wasn't going to mess with evidence. My dad would have killed me."

Scott swung his legs off the bed and scooped his phone and charger up in his free hand. "How bad was it?" he asked as he plugged his phone up by his desk. He hoped it would charge at least a little before he had to leave for school.

"Man, it was bad. I thought Lydia was going to hurl," Stiles answered. "But I don't think it was a werewolf. And it definitely wasn't a regular human murder."

"What makes you say that?"

Stiles paused for a moment. "Well, it looked like something put a hole right through the middle of her. I mean, I could see the ground through her stomach."

Scott grimaced but had to agree, that didn't sound very much like something a human or a werewolf would do. "Was there blood everywhere?"

"That's just the thing," Stiles said. "You would have thought so. But the whole area was clean. At first I thought the murder must have happened somewhere else and then the killer just dropped the body in the woods. But then I noticed something else. The wound wasn't, um, oozing or anything. There wasn't any blood on the body anywhere. And the whole freaking thing looked kind of like a raisin."

"A raisin? Like, all shriveled or something?" Scott asked as he went to his closet and grabbed some clean clothes.

"Exactly. It was like all the fluids in her body had been, I don't know, sucked out maybe? Drained? I don't know. But _definitely_ not werewolf or human. And probably not druid but I haven't totally ruled that one out yet."

Scott tossed a clean shirt and pair of jeans on his bed. "That's just great. That means we're dealing with something else. What the hell drains people of their fluids?"

Stiles laughed. "Well, it's funny. A few years ago I would have said vampire and then laughed it off as impossible. But then…you know…werewolves…so…."

"Dude, our lives are so messed up."

"You're telling me. I was the one running around in the dark with a banshee, looking for a body at the request of my best friend, the local Alpha werewolf. Messed up doesn't even _begin_ to describe our lives right now."

In spite of everything going on, Scott couldn't help but laugh. His best friend sure had a way with words.

"So what do we do now?" Stiles asked.

Scott frowned. "Did you call it in?"

"Yeah, after we found it I called my dad and told him what was going on. It's so nice to be able to do that now, tell him the _actual_ truth I mean. I don't think he likes it too much but it's a lot easier to explain why I'm always out in the middle of the night now."

"That makes two of us," Scott said. "Okay, do you think he can get us a copy of the report or whatever, in case you guys missed something in the dark?"

Stiles hesitated. "Yeah, probably. But he's going to want to know who's getting the information and what we want to do with it. I mean, he_ is_ still the Sheriff."

Scott rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Okay, look. I want to call a meeting, I guess. A pack meeting. After school today. Call Lydia and let her know. I'll have Isaac get the Argents over. Tell your dad to come. That way he doesn't feel out of the loop."

"Oh, wow. Our first official pack meeting. You nervous?"

Scott shrugged. "I'm more worried about there being a supernatural killer roaming out there somewhere, to be honest."

"Right. Good point. Oh, uh, one thing about the meeting though," Stiles said. "Do you think it's a good idea to have it at your house? I mean, what if your dad shows up lurking or whatever it is he's been doing in your driveway?"

"It's not like me and Isaac are going to be all wolfed-out or anything. Besides, if I want to have friends over after school, he's got no say in it. Screw him," Scott said heatedly.

"That's my boy," Stiles responded.

Scott told Stiles that he'd see him at school and hung up Isaac's phone. He tried not to notice that most of the calls before Stiles' had been from Allison. He didn't want to snoop and it wasn't any of his business.

The sound of the bathroom door opening down the hall caught his attention and he jumped up as a towel-clad Isaac passed his doorway on the way to his own room.

"Isaac!" Scott called, following him. "Here's your phone back."

"Did you get that whole banshee-wail thing figured out?" Isaac asked as Scott came in. He started pulling on clean clothes as Scott explained what Stiles had told him on the phone.

"So," Scott said, leaning on the doorframe. "I want to have a pack meeting after school. I want to get to the root of this and fast. I'm not the best at organization. I'd never claim to be. But Derek was _way_ worse at it. I don't want miscommunication to be the reason one of us gets hurt out there."

"Good point," Isaac agreed. "Yeah, Derek almost never told us anything. Unless it was time to kill someone. And even then he wasn't great at explaining when. Or where. Or why."

"Exactly. Things aren't going down like that again," Scott said, crossing his arms. "Anyway, so can you tell Allison? See if Mr. Argent can be here too? If it really is some monster or something, he'd be a good one to ask about it."

Isaac blushed and turned his eyes away, focusing intensely on throwing things in his backpack. "Uh, yeah. If I see her, I'll tell her."

Scott sighed and shook his head. It was about time he let Isaac off the hook. "Okay, let's get this out in the open."

Isaac looked up with his brow furrowed, though he couldn't have possibly been confused about what was coming next.

"There's something going on between you and Allison," Scott said. He stopped and raised his hand when Isaac tried to defend himself. "No. Don't bother trying to deny it. I'm trying to tell you. It's fine. And, you know, thanks. For not, I don't know, rubbing it in my face or anything. But I'm not jealous. I'm not mad. I don't have a problem with it."

He watched as Isaac sat on the edge of his bed and put his face in his hands. "Man, I don't know what happened. I didn't mean for it to, I swear."

"I get that. Trust me, Allison has that effect on people," Scott replied. "She's kind of incredible."

Isaac looked up, his chin propped on his hands, elbows on his knees. "Yeah, I just…I had no idea."

"I'm glad you do now though. But I'll say this, and I'll only say it once," Scott said, pushing himself to standing. Even at his full height he didn't come close to Isaac's stature, but his newly-found Alpha status managed to make him intimidating none-the-less. "If you hurt her, or let her _get_ hurt, you're going to wish you were dead. Got that?"

Isaac nodded vigorously. "I wouldn't dream of it man, I swear."

Scott grinned. If he'd thought Isaac would hurt her, intentionally or not, he'd have never given him the okay in the first place. But he needed Isaac to know that Mr. Argent wasn't the only person looking out for Allison.

They confirmed the time after school and Scott went back to his room, thinking about maybe laying back down. But even as he thought it, his alarm went off. He groaned. On mornings like this, he seriously considered not bothering with a High School diploma. He pulled his clean clothes on and grabbed his phone and charger, hoping he could find somewhere to charge it at school. It still didn't have enough juice to turn on.

Downstairs, he could hear the backdoor open. His mom was coming in just as Isaac was going out.

He came into the kitchen to see her brewing a pot of coffee and tidying up a little. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he knew he didn't have time to stay for a cup even though he could have really used the caffeine.

"Morning," Melissa greeted as she wiped the counter down with a dishtowel.

"Ugh," Scott responded. He took a seat at the kitchen island and propped his head in his hands.

His mother frowned. "Oh god. That's the look, isn't it?"

Scott glanced up at her. "What look?"

She leaned one hand on the counter and propped her other one on her hip. "The look that says bad things are happening. Werewolf things."

He laughed humorlessly and rubbed his face with his hands. "Yeah, I guess it is."

She sighed and went to the pantry, grabbing a box of toaster pastries and setting them on the counter in front of him. "What is it now? Please tell me Deucalion isn't back."

"No, I don't think it's him," Scott said, taking the box gratefully. He was starving.

"What about that creep, Peter Hale?"

Scott shook his head. "We don't think it's werewolves actually."

"Well, what exactly is going on?"

While demolishing half the box of Pop-Tarts, he filled his mother in on the body in the woods.

"So is everyone coming to the house then?" she asked, grabbing one of his toaster pastries and taking a bite.

Scott grinned sheepishly and ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah. Sorry. I should have asked first, right?"

Melissa nodded and swallowed. "Look, I get it. Sometimes there isn't going to be time to ask for permission with this whole Alpha thing you have going on now. I don't like it but then again I don't _have_ to like it. Neither of us asked for this. But I still need to feel like I'm your mother, okay? So when there_ is_ time to ask for permission, could you try to do that please?"

"Yeah, of course," Scott replied. He got up and came around the corner to wrap his mother in a hug. For the first time he realized how small she felt. He wasn't sure when that had happened but it made him want to protect her even more. "Are you going to be here?"

"For a few minutes maybe. But then I have to go to work," she answered.

He pulled back to look at her and didn't like the dark circles under her eyes. "How many more nightshifts?"

"Tonight is the last one for a bit," she said. She stepped back and went over to the coffee maker to pour herself a cup.

"Good," Scott said, grabbing up his backpack and helmet. "Because I really don't want you out at night by yourself right now."

Melissa laughed and shook her head as he walked out the backdoor. After it closed, he could hear her say, "Which one of us is the parent around here again?"

Scott grinned and got on his motorcycle, heading for school.

* * *

There were Men in his forest. A lot of them.

He should have expected this since he had to place the body of his victim within the edge of the forest but it still managed to bother him. They were traipsing over plants, scratching his trees with their equipment, frightening the animals who called this place their home. They had yellow plastic tape tied around branches and bushes to keep other humans from wandering too close. The whole thing looked like a circus.

He'd been watching them for hours. They'd first trickled in after a couple of very young humans found the body. And now the humans continued to multiply. As a stag, he couldn't get close enough to really understand what all the fuss was about. In years past, when other lives had been taken for his nourishment, there had been none of this fanfare. He wasn't sure what it was all about, or why there were so many other humans milling around.

He shifted into the visage of a blackbird and flew clumsily to land in a nearby tree. He hadn't flown in lifetimes and it took a little getting used to again.

Below him, he watched as one Man seemed to be directing all the others. Mostly, he stood quietly to the side, his eyes darting to and fro, taking in the scene. He wasn't just looking at the body. He was looking at the leaves on the ground, the way the area was disturbed, the lack of bodily fluids. He was calculating.

From the other side of the yellow tape, a woman dressed in pale purple beckoned to him. He motioned for the other men to let her inside and she walked over to him.

This was a conversation he was interested in because the observant man intrigued him. He wanted to hear what this Man had to say about the body.

"Hey John," the woman said, handing him a paper cup of steaming liquid. "Any verdict?"

The man smiled appreciatively, taking the cup and drinking from it. "Thanks, Melissa," he said and gestured toward the body of the dead girl. "I'll have you take a look at the hospital but I'm with Stiles on this one. I don't think it was a human who caused this sort of injury. Not unless it was a guy with a lance."

The woman snickered and tucked a lock of dark, curly hair behind her ear. "Yeah, that's not too likely."

The man just shook his head and turned back to the forest, gazing into its depths. "I've stopped worrying about what's likely anymore."

The woman moved up beside him, following his gaze, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I felt that way too, at first. It gets better though."

"It does?" the man asked, turning to her.

She laughed. "Actually, it probably just gets more complicated. But I tell you, it's better than being in the dark. That much I know for sure."

The man smiled and shook his head. He gestured for the woman to follow him and they left the roped off area, heading to one of the many vehicles in the parking lot.

How could a human have done this? How could they, even for a moment, consider his work to be that of a human? He was offended. He shook his feathers in righteous indignation. It just wasn't right.

But he couldn't just set them on his trail, either. He couldn't claim this to be his work and not that of Man. Because he knew what men did to those things they didn't understand. He was sure his beloved Nemeton had suffered that fate.

He took to the wing and flew out over the forest, frustrated. He was torn between needing to stay hidden and the need to be noticed. In the end, self-preservation won out. But he knew it would only be a matter of time before he fed again. And he knew they couldn't continue to claim it was the work of Man. Not when the bodies started piling up.

"_Her heart is breaking from the pain that she feels. Every day's the same. She fights to find her way."_

_Britt Nicole, "When She Cries"_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Thank you so much for the amazing response on the first half of this chapter. I am eternally humbled by the kind words you guys have for me. It's just been completely unbelievable. When I wake up in the morning to ten new reviews, all positive, it chokes me up. I quiet literally cried happy tears guys, because I was so caught off guard. Every word you say is read. Every review is responded to. I can't tell you how much it means to me. Thank you. It makes writing this so much fun.

Let me know what you like! Let me know what you hate! I love to hear your predictions and your ideas!

Also, come join the conversation on twitter at lucawindmover for the title of the next chapter and a little insight on who the next perspectives involve. I also tend to put up quotes from upcoming chapters, things I like a lot. I put up links to the songs that inspire each chapter as well. Lots of fun guys. I love to hear from you in all avenues.


	7. Chapter 4a

Moving in the Dark

Lucawindmover

Chapter 4

"Believe Me"

* * *

"_I could say it, but you won't believe me. You say you do, but you don't deceive me."_

_Stars, "Dead Hearts"_

To the casual observer, it would seem like the lunch table strewn with print-outs from the library was just a huge mess. But Stiles had his own system. Not a lot of other people understood his system, but he'd given up explaining it a long time ago. Some things were highlighted, others were circled, and a few things were underlined. Everything that he found interesting or important was being copied into a notebook so he could read it all later, probably before he went to bed. He was looking for a pattern. He was looking for any one piece of information that might be repeated a few times, making it a little more likely to be true.

He knew that he should be working on whatever it was that had killed the woman in the woods. These papers should have been detailing myths, legends, murders even. Scott hadn't asked him to get on it yet, but he probably would. Stiles was the go-to research guy. He didn't mind that. His brain was really good at putting together patterns. He was just glad that his ability to research something to death was finally getting put to good use.

But these pages weren't about monsters. Every sheet in front of him was about near death experiences. They were about ghosts and visions and the light at the end of the tunnel. He was still trying to figure out what he could do to remember his mission from his mother, to remember whatever message it was that she had tried so hard to impart before he was pulled back to the land of the living.

He sighed and propped his elbows up on the table, resting his face in his hands. His head hurt and he was so tired. Something about only getting a couple of hours of sleep a night for the last few weeks was starting to wear on him. Not to mention driving around town in the middle of the night looking for a body. Oh, and the super emotionally confusing kiss with Lydia.

Lydia.

He groaned. He did not want to think about Lydia. Every time he did he just got annoyed.

After their awkward encounter in the car, he'd gotten out and walked over to where she'd been pointing and, sure enough, there was the body. He had called his dad and, after walking his father through what he knew about werewolf kills, he was told to go take the girl home.

The drive from the library to the Martin house was ten of the most stressful minutes of Stiles' existence. He didn't know what to say to make everything go back to normal. He'd never wanted to press the undo button so badly in his _life_. He didn't seem alone in this feeling. From what he could tell, Lydia was just as anxious as he was, twirling a piece of hair around her finger while she stared pointedly out the window. While that should have made him feel a little better about the whole thing, it actually made him feel worse. Because it meant that she'd felt something and was just turning a blind eye to it. If he had just been one of her random hook-ups, she'd have just gone on like nothing was wrong. He'd seen it often enough over the years.

Watching her then, he knew this was different. And now it was a little broken and he had no idea how to make it better. He couldn't remember a time when words had failed him. He could always come up with something witty, or sarcastic at least, to lighten the mood and take some of the serious out of it.

But not this time.

She thanked him for the ride and got out, going back up to the house without so much as a second glance. He took a few minutes to sort through his brain before heading back home. And even though he laid in his bed until the sun came up, he didn't get any more sleep. He couldn't keep his feet still, wiggling them back and forth as he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. It was better than pacing not nearly as good as sleeping would have been.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before sitting back in his chair, surveying the mess before him. Most of what he had found was wrapped up in religious mumbo jumbo. He didn't have anything against a person being religious. To each their own. But after his mother died, he hadn't seen any real sense in it. And if religion was supposed to bring him comfort in his time of grief, well, it had mostly done the opposite. He refused to believe that some sort of higher power had decided his mother was ready to die. Science. That's what he believed in. And medicine. Medicine and science had failed to save his mother, but at least they'd tried. He couldn't say the same for religion.

"Stiles!"

He glanced up to see Scott crossing the cafeteria with a lunch tray and quickly stacked all his papers together. He loved Scott like a brother and had for as long as he could remember. But he didn't want to necessarily share this with him anymore. Scott had been too hesitant, too skeptical. And on top of that, they were currently dealing with bodies again. He knew bodies would take precedent. So he wasn't going to split his best friend's focus, knowing he had enough on his shoulders as it was.

"Hey," Stiles replied, tucking the stack of papers in his backpack. "We still on for this afternoon?"

"Yeah," Scott said, taking a seat across from him. No one else was sitting at their table yet, which meant they didn't have to be too cautious about their conversation. "Mom gave us the green light. Isaac is telling Allison and her dad. What did yours say about coming over?"

"What you _really_ mean is what my father said about getting us that police report," Stiles said, zipping his backpack and dropping it on the floor by his feet.

Scott rolled his eyes and nodded, taking a bite of the horrible gelatinous spaghetti on his plate.

"Well, he's not happy about it but I didn't think he _would_ be," Stiles said. He grabbed the fruit cup from Scott's tray and opened it, taking a bite. "He said he couldn't give us a copy but that he could come by and debrief us or whatever," he said around a mouthful of fruit and Jell-O.

"Debrief us?"

"Yeah, you know. Tell us all the details. Fill us in on the investigation," he said, waving his spoon around a little. "But he can't give us a copy. Word of mouth is one thing but actual paper copies? He's still a little too new to this game to risk that."

Scott nodded. "Makes sense. I don't want to get him in trouble anyway." He swallowed another bite of his food, grimacing and yet still eating it. Stiles found himself wondering if his werewolf healing would be repairing the damage Scott was doing to his insides. "What about Lydia?"

"What _about_ Lydia?"

Scott paused and frowned. "Did you tell her about the meeting?"

"Oh that," Stiles said, his fingers tapping the table nervously. He couldn't help how his eyes were darting around the room. "Yeah, I told her. She'll be there."

Scott took a second to read his face and Stiles sighed. He had a good idea of what was coming.

"What?"

"What happened last night?" Scott asked, pushing his tray to the side. Apparently even werewolves could only stomach so much of a school lunch. "And you _know_ what I mean. If you try telling me about the body again I might have to knock you out."

"Threatening violence already?" Stiles tsked. "I thought that was just an Alpha-_Derek_ thing."

Scott narrowed his eyes and Stiles groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Oh my god, fine! Something happened, okay. A very weird kiss…thing…happened. But it didn't mean anything. Apparently."

"She kissed you?" Scott said, incredulously.

Stiles crossed his arms. "Why do you say that like it's so hard for you to believe? She kisses _everybody_. Yes, she kissed me. I kissed her. We were…mutually…kissing. And then she stopped and freaked out. Said it was because of Aiden."

"But you don't believe her," his best friend said, a statement rather than a question.

Stiles felt his shoulders fall. He didn't know. It made sense, the Aiden excuse. But somehow he thought there was more to it than that. He just needed to get to the root of it. With as many things to figure out as what he currently had on his plate, he doubted he would ever get around to that stupid English assignment that was looming.

"I don't know what to believe," Stiles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "But you know that does bring up something else I wanted to talk to you about."

"What's that?" Scott said, opening a bottle of water and drinking almost half of it in a few gulps.

"Are we going to tell _them_?" Stiles asked. "Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum? About the body in the woods, I mean."

"Don't call them that," Scott admonished, but the fact that he was grinning didn't make it stick. "And that's something I want to talk about at the meeting with everybody. I'm thinking about inviting Ethan and Aiden into the pack."

Stiles felt as if the floor had fallen out from underneath him. Invite them into the pack? Had Scott lost his mind? The twins had been trying to kill them just two weeks ago. It hadn't even been a whole two weeks. And while they'd made the right choices in the end, they were still responsible for more death and carnage than everyone else in the pack put together.

"You want those two in our pack?" Stiles finally said, throwing his hands out wide. "_Those _two? I'm really failing to follow your logic with this one here, buddy."

"We are seriously lacking muscle with Derek out of town indefinitely," he answered.

"Oh, like Derek was that much help anyway. Did the guy ever win a fight? Because I seem to recall him getting his ass kicked in pretty much every fight he's ever been in," Stiles said.

Scott grinned. "That's not the point. The point is there is something out there and it's already killed once. We're down to two werewolves, just me and Isaac. I would feel a lot more comfortable with a little back-up."

Stiles reached over and grabbed Scott's napkin and started tearing it into little pieces. "Only two werewolves, you say? Do you even remember the days when there were _no_ werewolves? Hmm? And our biggest problems were my ADHD, your asthma, and getting on the Lacrosse team?"

"Seems like a long time ago, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

Scott drank the rest of his water while Stiles continued to shred the napkin. There was something he wanted to say and he didn't usually hold back so he decided he would just do it. "You know, I could be back-up."

"You_ are_ back-up," Scott said. "I pretty much call you for everything."

Stiles shook his head. "No, you call me for research and interrogating and, I don't know, office work. I can be back-up, real honest-to-god back-up. Since when did you start thinking werewolf equals safety?"

Scott sighed. "When the monsters started coming out at night, that's when. Look, being human doesn't make you less of a pack member in my book. But it does put you at a disadvantage in a fight."

"Hey, I'm good with a bat," Stiles said, gathering up all the little torn pieces of napkin into a pile. "I mean, I'll have to get a new one because I left my other one in that collapsing root cellar, but I mean, I'm not useless."

"I never said you _were_ useless," Scott said. "But, just listen to me for a minute. I can't lose you. Seriously, I _can't_. Nothing can ever happen to you. I'd lose it. And if we're in the middle of some kind of battle, I'm going to be so focused on keeping you safe that I won't be able to concentrate on the fight."

Stiles shook his head. "Man, you don't have to protect everyone all the time. It's not possible."

"Yes I do," Scott argued. "I'm the Alpha now. It's my job to keep everyone safe. That includes you."

Stiles stared at him for a long moment before relenting. "Yeah, okay. Fine. Put that kind of pressure on yourself. You're going to have a heart attack at twenty but you know, whatever. As long as the rest of us are safe."

Scott smirked. "Thanks for understanding, man."

Stiles rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. He wasn't actually mad at Scott. In fact, he was kind of flattered that Scott considered him pack, family, and worth protecting. He sometimes wished he could convince his best friend that he could protect himself, but it wasn't worth arguing over anymore. He'd just have to show him. Words could only go so far.

"So, you want to be back-up?" Scott asked. "Then I've got a job for you."

"More research?"

Scott laughed a little, nervously. Whatever it was, he didn't seem to want to ask it. Stiles had a bad feeling about that.

"Not exactly," he said. "I want you to call Derek. Tell him about what's going on."

Stiles groaned and leaned forward, propping his forehead on the table. "Ugh, why? Why me?"

"First of all, he should know what's going on. He's not the Alpha any more but I think he'd want to know what we are dealing with. And second, you have his number."

"So do you," Stiles said, lifting his head until it was his chin propped on the table.

"Yeah, but I don't think he'll want to talk to me. The last time_ I_ saw him was right after he got his ass kicked and his girlfriend got killed."

"See? Told you. He loses _every fight_."

"Just, would you do it? Please?"

"God! Fine," Stiles said. "I'll call him after school. But I bet he doesn't answer. I'm pretty sure he was trying to cut all of us out of his life when he left."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Stiles sighed and gathered up his backpack, telling Scott he'd see him in Biology. He made his way through the hallway without really looking at his surroundings. His head was too full. He had too many things going on. For a second, his chest started to feel tight and he stopped. He closed his eyes and held his breath and counted to twenty. He paid no attention to the people bumping him and cursing him, just focused on counting. When he finally let out the breath, he felt better. Until he opened his eyes at least and saw Lydia standing at the other end of the hall, watching him with her big hazel eyes.

With a clench of his jaw, he turned and went into his English class.

* * *

Isaac had never been a very smiley person. He hadn't had much in his life that made him want to smile. Between his abusive home life and his non-existent social life at school, he hadn't been a very happy person. Those had been very tough times.

He felt like he'd been through the fire and come out the other side. It was a little cheesy to think of himself as a phoenix since he was actually a werewolf, but he felt like the sentiment applied. He was pretty sure the amount of time he spent smiling these days was absurd. But he found he didn't really care about looking like an idiot much anymore.

Isaac stood on the sidewalk, grinning and watching Allison waiting in her car for him. She had her music loud, though the humans rushing past probably couldn't hear it. She was looking down at something in her lap, probably her phone he figured. But she was sitting there, waiting for him. Just like she had the day before. Just like she had been doing for longer than most of their friends realized. He felt like the luckiest guy alive, which was a miracle to him. Just a year ago or so he'd actually been considering taking his life to escape his father. He was endlessly disbelieving of how his life was turning out.

Just then, as if she had somehow known he was looking, she turned her head and caught his gaze and suddenly he wasn't the only one smiling. She grinned and beckoned to him, putting away her phone and turning down the music.

Isaac climbed in and tossed his backpack in the backseat next to hers. They were starting to get into a comfortable rhythm with this.

"Hey," he said as he fastened his seatbelt. She made him wear one in her car. Car rules. Otherwise he'd have never bothered.

"Hey," she said, pulling into the line of cars that were slowly filing out of the parking lot. "So, is this thing going to be weird? I'm worried that it's going to be weird."

"Weird how?" he asked, propping his elbow up on the edge of the door.

She shrugged and bit her lip. "I don't know. I mean, it's Scott. He's our friend. And we're…well. I don't know what we are. But whatever it is, I don't want it to hurt him. And all three of us haven't been in a room together since the night of the eclipse."

"Nah," he answered, shaking his head. "Scott's fine with it. I wouldn't worry."

"Why, did he say something to you?" she asked. They finally got to the end of the line and pulled out on the road.

"He…might…have mentioned something in passing," Isaac said, nervously running his hand through his hair.

Allison glanced over to him in distress, torn between wanting to stare at him disbelievingly and keeping her eyes on the road. "Well what did he say?" she all but shouted.

Isaac blushed. "He pretty much said that if I hurt you, he would kill me."

She relaxed some at this, laughing a little. "Yeah. That sounds like Scott."

Isaac took a deep breath. "Look. I don't know what we are either. I don't know where it's going. But I know I like it, whatever it is. And I don't want to mess it up."

Allison smiled and blushed, avoiding his eyes. It was easier for her to do since she was the one driving. "I feel the same," she admitted.

"Oh, well…good," Isaac responded, not really sure what he was supposed to say. Luckily he was saved the necessity of continuing his thought because an entirely different one caught his attention. "Hey, can we run an errand? Before we got to Scott's?"

She shrugged. She seemed just as relieved as he was to be changing the subject. "Sure. Where to?"

"The grocery store," he said with a smile. "I want to pick up some pizzas or something. You know, so Melissa doesn't feel like she has to cook or anything."

Allison raised an eyebrow. "Melissa?"

Isaac blushed. "Yeah. She insists. You know, since she gave me a room and everything."

He watched as Allison drove on. There was something different about her. He'd been noticing it all day but he couldn't put his finger on it. Just a little something around the eyes, like she was extra tired or worried about something. Maybe someone who didn't spend as much time with her as he did wouldn't pick up on it, but he did. Maybe it was something that he noticed because of his werewolf senses. He wasn't sure. But before he could comment on it, she interrupted his thoughts.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" she said.

"Sure."

"I don't mean to be insensitive or anything so please don't be offended," she started. "But how do you pay for things? You know, like food or whatever? Giving me gas money for picking you up? You don't have a job or something that I don't know about, do you?"

"Oh," he said. "That. No, no job. It's a little complicated. But after the court cleared me for my father's death, they wanted to put me in foster care since I'm under eighteen. They didn't know where I would end up. But I talked to a social worker who helped me apply for emancipated minor status. The judge granted it. But while I was kind of in limbo, my father's house was sold to offset my court costs and cover all of his final expenses and stuff. I got to keep what was left. It's not a whole lot, but it's all in the bank. Not enough to survive on, to get an apartment or have a regular car payment or anything. But it's enough to help with groceries and gas."

Allison glanced over at him, almost in a new light. "Wow. I guess none of us really thought about what happened to you, legally, after your dad died."

He shrugged. "I didn't like to talk about it. So when no one really asked, I didn't think about saying anything."

Allison reached over with her right hand and clasped his. He almost froze just out of shock. Usually when she was reaching for him, there was a dagger or a knee to the groin coming right behind it. But he went with the moment and let her hand, so small compared to his, wrap around his fingers and give him a comforting squeeze. He decided that one small gesture was the most incredible feeling in the world, coming from her.

When he looked up at her again, he noticed that difference once more. "Allison, there's something wrong with you today," he said, deciding not to beat around the bush.

"Just today?" she joked.

He raised an eyebrow. "You know what I mean."

She sighed. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't really know. There's just something…off."

Allison nodded. "Yeah. Something happened last night, before I went to bed. I was pretty sure I saw a muddy handprint on my dresser. But I searched the whole apartment and no one was there. And then the stupid handprint had disappeared anyway. But then when you told me about the body in the woods…well. I don't know. What if it's connected?"

Isaac frowned. He did not like the idea of something having been in Allison's bedroom. "We should tell the others."

Allison shook her head. "I don't know. What if I just imagined the whole thing? They'll think I'm crazy."

The more he thought about it, the more he had to fight the urge to shift. The idea that Allison had been in any sort of danger set his teeth on edge and raised his heart rate. He had promised Scott that not only would he never hurt Allison, but he would also make sure nothing else ever hurt her either. If someone had really been in her room, he was going to get to the bottom of it. Because he was starting to realize that there was nothing he wouldn't do for this girl.

He rubbed his thumb across the backs of her knuckles. She squeezed his hand a little more in response.

Not a damn thing in the world that he wouldn't do.

…_to be continued…_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks so much for your review, guys. I mean, really. Special thanks to Sirnonenath for leaving the most epically long review I've ever gotten. I can't tell you guys how much fun it is for me, as a writer, to read what you guys are thinking about what I'm writing. I love the predictions! I love the quotes! It gives me great insights to see which things you guys are picking up on, which things are still flying under the radar, and which things are hitting home with you emotionally. Keep it up guys. The more feedback I get, the better the final product is. Love you guys so much.

And Twitter! My followers are getting fun quotes, chapter titles, songs that inspire me, and updates on when the next chapters are up. It has been so much fun so far. Thanks to everyone who has followed me so far at lucawindmover.


	8. Chapter 4b

Moving in the Dark

Lucawindmover

Chapter Four

"Believe Me"

* * *

…_continued…_

Lydia groaned and closed her AP Chemistry book, completely unable to focus. Her brain felt like it was being pulled in a hundred different directions. She couldn't concentrate. She knew that it was partly the residual effects of her banshee wail. The first few days after finding a body always made her mind feel like it was full of angry bees. She could never keep to one activity for any more than a few minutes. Homework was a nightmare even though she knew it was usually easy. She was getting incredibly frustrated.

On top of that, she was still thinking about the pack meeting.

It had been the first time that everyone had been in the same room again since the night of the eclipse and the tension had been palpable. It wasn't tense because of being together, just a sense that they were all feeling the same thing. Dread. They were all dreading whatever it was that had killed this girl. All of them had been affected by the horrors of the Alpha pack and the homicidal druid. They hadn't been sure what was going on then and they weren't sure what was going on now.

It turned out that Sheriff Stilinski didn't have much to add about the body. He had seemed really uncomfortable telling them anything and mostly addressed his information to Mr. Argent. Lydia didn't blame him, really. She was pretty sure that none of these parents saw them as children necessarily anymore. Not after what had happened on the eclipse. But he was still giving civilians classified police intelligence. He didn't like breaking the law, even if there was a good reason for it.

The only thing that she and Stiles had missed in the dark was that there were wood slivers in the woman's wound. They were being analyzed in the lab to find out what kind of wood it was, but it would still likely take a few weeks to get those results back.

No one seemed to know what to make of this fact. After that, the Sheriff had excused himself and left with Mrs. McCall not far behind him. They both had to be back at work.

"_Was there anything like this in that bestiary?" Stiles asked Mr. Argent, leaning forward on the couch. He was in constant motion, Lydia noticed. If he wasn't tapping his fingers against his knee, he was tapping his foot. Or readjusting. He couldn't just sit back or sit forward. He kept having to alternate between the two._

_Mr. Argent shook his head. "Not that I remember. I never had a chance to go through it the way I would have liked, but from what I remember, no. Nothing that put big holes in people like that."_

"_And we're sure her body was drained?" Allison asked to the room at large. She crossed her arms and looked to Scott._

_But Stiles was the one to answer. "I'm telling you guys, the body was shriveled up. There wasn't a drop of blood anywhere. How do you get a giant, gaping hole in the middle of your body without bleeding?"_

_No one seemed to have an answer for this._

It was all very anti-climactic. No one knew anything. And as she pointed out, you can't determine a pattern from just one point of information.

There was the unlikely possibility that this was a one-time death, that whoever or whatever it was that killed the woman was just passing through and wouldn't stay around to terrorize the town. It didn't feel like anyone was ready to put money on that idea though.

Lydia really hoped this was the case. She didn't want anyone else to be hurt. And she certainly didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and contorting, forced to hunt after another dead victim.

After the pizzas came out of the oven and someone suggested a movie, Mr. Argent took his leave of them. Lydia had thought to leave as well. Under normal circumstances, she'd have loved to sit with her friends and snack and let her brain unwind a little. But these weren't normal circumstances. Besides that fact that her recent banshee wail had left her unable to focus long enough to watch an entire movie, she also felt like she needed to put some space between herself and Stiles.

She couldn't help it. Being in the same room with him was painful. She couldn't stop watching his tapping, or wiggling, or pacing. She couldn't make herself turn away from his eyes, darting around the room without ever seeming to land on anything. It was the worst she'd ever seen him. It didn't look like any of their other friends noticed that it was worse than usual, though. The others probably saw him twitching or being jumpy and thought it was his usual energy.

But she knew it wasn't and she was afraid that she'd caused him to be this way. She couldn't handle it. She didn't know how to fix it and she couldn't just sit there and watch as he crumbled around the edges.

Because after he'd dropped her off last night, she'd gone in her house and been utterly mortified by the way she'd treated him. He was her friend, not some random hook-up used to keep her mind free of Jackson. Stiles deserved better. He deserved a real explanation. There weren't a lot of things that scared Lydia, truly scared her. But real feelings, real emotions, were one of those things. She was a coward when it came to talking to someone, anyone, about how she really felt on the inside. She had spent so many years carefully constructing this outer shell to keep herself safe and the last time she'd let someone inside that shell, Jackson had proven to her that it wasn't worth letting anyone else inside. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Stiles wouldn't do to her what Jackson had done. Stiles wasn't possessive, he wasn't overbearing, he wasn't self-centered and selfish. No, if there was anyone on the planet who was safe to let inside, it was probably Stiles. But all those years of meticulously protecting herself had made it hard for her to admit that this boy, this silly, brown-eyed boy might be worth the risk.

_Once Mr. Argent had wrangled a hug out of his daughter and left through the front door, Lydia stood and grabbed her purse, hoping to do the same. _

"_Wait, Lydia," Scott said, motioning with his hand to get her attention. "I had one more thing to talk about before you go. I was just waiting for the parents to leave. It's why I suggested a movie. Parents never want to stay for movies."_

"_Well, okay," she said, taking her seat again. This felt ominous. From the corner of her eye she saw Stiles roll his head back and sigh._

"_Let me guess, this is when you talk about your _horrible _idea, right?" Stiles asked. He was pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. "Go on, tell them how horrible it is."_

"_It's not a horrible idea," Scott replied. "Telling you about it ahead of time was a bad choice, but my idea is fine."_

"_Debatable," Stiles countered. "That's debatable."_

"_You mind filling the rest of us in on what you're talking about?" Isaac asked, gesturing between the two of them. He was sitting on the floor near Allison's legs. They weren't touching. But Lydia knew how to read body language. If Scott hadn't been in the room, Allison might have been in his lap. Lydia didn't know how the two of them could stand all the sexual tension, but there they were, trying to completely ignore it._

_Scott took a deep breath and spread his hands out. "I'm thinking about inviting Aiden and Ethan into the pack."_

_There was a prolonged silence while everyone seemed to think it over. Stiles looked a little disappointed that there hadn't been resounding opposition right out of the gate._

_Finally, Lydia spoke up. "Honestly, I'm kind of surprised you waited _this_ long," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It was true. She had somehow expected that to happen right away, seeing as the few of them who were left really needed to band together. And if the group wanted to keep an eye on what the twins were doing, it would make sense to have them in the pack where they could be better supervised. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer was the motto, right?_

_Stiles scoffed. "Of course _you _would say that," he said, crossing his arms and leaning back into the couch again._

_Lydia frowned. "And what's that supposed to mean?"_

"_I'm sure you aren't biased or anything, seeing as you have one of those beefcakes wrapped around your little finger."_

_Lydia felt her cheeks flush with heat. "Aiden is not wrapped around my finger. I can't make him do anything he doesn't already want to do. And you think _I'm _biased? Really, Stilinski? You want to go there with me right now?"_

_She was sitting on the edge of her seat, her bright hazel eyes glaring daggers at him. At least he had the decency to meet her eyes. But the stubborn set of his jaw told her that he wasn't backing down either. _

_He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Scott throwing his arm over and smacking Stiles in the chest. All of his breath left him in a whoosh and he threw a questioning glance at the werewolf._

"_Okay, can you guys do this some other time?" Scott asked, looking a little uncomfortable to have to intervene. "I mean, let's stick to the topic. Or else, you know, you guys might embarrass the rest of us to _death_ and then it won't matter who is in which pack anyway."_

_Isaac burst out in nervous laughter. Allison nudged his shoulder with her knee and he bit his lip. Lydia glanced at her best friend only to see that while Allison had chastised Isaac she was having a hard time keeping a straight face herself. _

_It was enough. Lydia had had enough. She had been uncomfortable since she'd arrived, hadn't gotten any actual new information that mattered, and was still anxious from her wailing incident. _

_She stood and slung her purse over her shoulder. "Look, I'm just going to go. I trust your judgment on this, Scott. Just fill me in on it later," she said and stormed off to the door without a backwards glance._

She had wanted to slam the door behind her but she counted herself above such petty displays of temper. She'd love to throw her book across the room right now, but she knew she wouldn't. First of all, it wouldn't make her feel any better. And secondly, she would end up having to clean up after her tantrum. No, she wasn't one to thrash around when she was angry. But it didn't mean she didn't want to. Because she really did.

Sometimes she envied the werewolves. While their curse really made their lives more complicated, there were also a few perks. Particularly their super-human strength. Lydia would have loved that. She would love to be able to punch a hole through a door or slam a door hard enough to knock it off its hinges. But being a banshee didn't come with any perks, as far as she could tell. She got to have the super-human compulsion to find dead people but she didn't get anything good for it in return. No enhanced senses, no extra strength, no enduring stamina, no speed. Nope. She got to have cramps and body aches, spend whole days with headaches, and lose the ability to focus on her homework for long enough that her grades were in danger. She got the short end of the stick and sometimes it really made her mad.

_So she let the door shut behind her on its own, rather than slamming it. Her heels clicked loudly as she made her way down the front walk. She was halfway to her car when she heard the door open behind her. _

"_Lydia, wait!" Stiles shouted. _

_She stopped walking but she didn't turn around. She could hear him bound down the front steps and jog toward her. She pursed her lips and steeled herself, determined to still be angry._

_He bobbed around to block her path, his hands held up to stop her from leaving if necessary. "Look, Lydia. I'm sorry, okay? I was just…that was…uncalled for."_

_Lydia crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "You think?"_

_Stiles put one hand on his hip and turned away, staring off up the street. He brought his other hand up and bumped his knuckles against his lips a few times. "I'm not even mad at you, okay? I don't…know, I'm just. I'm just really overwhelmed right now. And you…you just have no idea how _freaking_ overwhelmed I am."_

_Lydia felt her shoulders loosen a little, realizing that he wasn't out here to berate her for her relationship with Aiden. Then she remembered how close to losing it he had been back in the hallway at school. Suddenly, all vestiges of anger fled and she was left with intense worry for her friend. She cared about him. Somehow, in the last year or so, he'd managed to worm his way into her heart and she couldn't just turn away. He had become one of her best friends, one of the most genuine people she'd ever met. She hated to see him falling apart and she wanted, desperately, to fix it._

"_Talk to me, Stiles," she said. She took a step forward, edging herself into his view._

_When he turned those sad brown eyes to her, she thought her heart might break. "It's everything, Lydia. It's every _freaking_ thing, okay? It's getting over being dead, it's the woman in the woods, it's Derek being gone, it's trying to be this normal kid at school when none of us are _normal_ anymore!" he said in one long string. He paused, his eyes darting away. "It's you and Aiden. It's this weird place that you and I are in. And there's this other thing that I _really_ don't want to talk about. I just….I keep feeling like I can't breathe…because you know, on top of all of that, I still have freaking ADHD and I can't, I just can't _focus_ on anything."_

_He took a couple of deep breaths and threw his arms out wide. "How am I supposed to focus on any _one_ thing? I'm only human! What the hell am I supposed to do, Lydia?"_

_She dropped her purse on the ground at her feet, no longer caring if it was a designer label sitting in the grass. She took the last few steps separating them and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her face to his chest and hugging him for all she was worth._

_He didn't seem to know how to respond at first. But then, hesitantly, he enfolded her in his long-armed embrace, burying his face in her shoulder. He was sniffling. That's how she knew he was crying. And then she couldn't help it. She was crying too. She was soaking the front of his shirt with tears that she'd been holding in for far too long. It broke her heart that she had added to his stress, that her relationship with Aiden had put even more on his slender shoulders._

_Finally, he sniffled and lifted his head, laughing a little. "Oh my god, I'm like a child."_

_Lydia pulled back, breaking the hug in order to swipe her hands across her cheeks. "Well, what does that make me?" she said with a smile. "I cried, too."_

_Stiles pulled up the edge of his t-shirt to scrub at his face. Lydia was afforded a nice view of what he often hid under baggy sweatshirts. Stiles would probably never be as bulky as Aiden or Danny, but he still had the body of an athlete. She quickly averted her eyes, frustrated at herself for ogling her friend while he was clearly still upset._

"_Yeah well," he said dropping his shirt and sniffling a little. "You didn't wine like a baby before you cried so that just makes you an empathetic crier."_

So they were okay. He walked her to her car, promised to update her on anything else that came up, and she drove home. And now she was laying in her bed, completely unable to concentrate on her homework.

She sighed. It was well past time for her to take some action. She needed to do it and soon, before it caused any more problems. Without thinking about it for a second longer, she reached over and grabbed her phone, dialing Aiden's number.

* * *

The forest was much more quiet now. The human's body had been removed and the other Men had left as well, taking their samples and suspicions and yellow tape with them. He was almost sorry to see them go because they all left together. He had hoped a straggler would be left behind for him to feed on. But, alas, they'd all left at the same time. He would have to find another meal somewhere else in the forest.

He was in his tree form. He had been for a while, in hopes that one of the meddling humans would come by and tempt his hunger. But no one had and he hadn't pulled them with his empathy because he didn't want to draw the attention of the other humans. Now, he reached his feelers out into the forest, trying to find some other hapless human that he could feed on.

After a few moments, he felt something. But what he was feeling was not human. No, not human at all.

He shifted into his bird form and flew through his forest, heading in the direction of what he'd felt as a tree. He dodged through the trees, over bushes, under branches, heading as quickly as he could toward the creek where he had felt the disturbance in his mind.

He handed in a tree, shaking out his feathers, his head darting to and fro as he searched for the creature he had felt in his mind.

There. In the bushes just on the other side of the water. He caught a flash of orange tail, followed by a high-pitched giggle.

And then he was blind.

The sudden loss of vision caused a wave of vertigo, knocking him off the branch. He fell to the ground in a flopping pile of feathers, trying desperately to regain his footing. He stopped for a moment, choosing to change his form instead, pulling arms out of wings, lips out of a beak, and a torso out of the tiny body that had been the bird. Now he stood in his human form, staring around him in disbelief.

Whatever he had felt, whatever he had seen, was completely gone now. He couldn't have been incapacitated for more than a couple of minutes but the creature was nowhere to be seen. He would have to shift into his tree form to be sure, but he couldn't feel that energy anywhere.

He stopped and crossed his arms, staring off into the forest. Whatever it had been out here had been hunting. Someone else had been hunting in his forest and he wasn't happy about it.

No, he'd have to take care of this. Next time, he wouldn't be caught unaware.

"_They were kids that I once knew. Now they're all dead hearts to you."_

_ Stars "Dead Hearts"_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing! Sorry this chapter has taken so long. As anyone who follows me on Twitter will already know, this chapter took it out of me. I wrote and rewrote it several times because I couldn't get it right. I even called my mother and talked to her about it, reading it and asking her opinion. But once it came to me, I knew it was finally right. Thank goodness, lol.

Something I love about writing fan fiction is getting to meet so many other great authors. I love reading as much as I love writing. So for those of you who have liked this story and are looking for other things to read in the meantime, here are a few others you might like.

"Not a Spark, But a Burn" by iceagesurvivor123

"Circles: A Stydia Martinski Love Story" by EideticGirl1

And if you know of a story that you think I'd like to read, please drop me a note. I'm always looking for good stories to dive in to!

Thanks again folks, for all the reviews. You guys really answered the call and wrote great reviews. I love to hear your thoughts and opinions on where the story is going. Love, so much love!


	9. Chapter 5a

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Five

"Broken Things"

* * *

"_She's got broken things where her heart should be."_

_Mayday Parade "You're Dead Wrong"_

Allison was tired and she felt really gross. The hair at the base of her neck was still damp under the messy ponytail and she had grit under her fingernails. After the meeting had concluded, she and Isaac had left Scott's and headed back to school. There were a few practice fields that didn't get a lot of use at this time in the evening and they had decided to go there to spar. Initially, they had been sparring in the Argent's living room. But a broken coffee table and two lamps later, her father had told them to take it outside. They couldn't practice in the woods, which was their next choice, because of the killer that could be roaming out there. So back to school they'd gone.

They hadn't practiced long this evening. Neither of them were in the right place, mentally, to put in the required amount of effort. After the third time that Allison slammed Isaac into the ground, knife leveled at his throat or at his eye, they decided to just go home and do homework instead. She was starting to wonder if he let her pin him on purpose. He rarely took advantage of any openings she left for him. She'd been testing him. She knew he was pretty good in a fight so she couldn't help but wonder why he didn't take those advantages.

Allison was sitting up against the headboard of her bed now, her usual place, with her French assignment in her lap. Isaac was in his usual spot, lying lengthwise across the foot of her bed. He was on his stomach, dozing on his history book. His arm was his pillow. She had offered him an actual pillow just fifteen minutes prior but he had declined, saying that he didn't need any more incentive to fall asleep. She smiled to herself, thinking that his plan to stay awake had pretty much failed.

He didn't stir as she slid off the bed, depositing her notebook on the desk. She reached up and stretched, groaning at the thought that she still needed to take him home. What she really wanted to do was take a shower and crawl into bed. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, what with the disappearing handprint making her paranoid.

She went around the edge of the bed and knelt by Isaac's head. He looked so peaceful, so carefree when he was asleep. She noticed that his hair was starting to grow out again, a few of the wavy locks spilling onto his forehead. He'd probably be getting it cut soon, she figured. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through it. His hair looked so soft that she almost couldn't help herself. But she stopped, just short of doing it, because they didn't tend to do those sorts of casual affectionate gestures with one another. She had been afraid of where it would lead. Though now she figured there wasn't anything to be afraid of, seeing as Scott had pretty much given Isaac the 'go ahead.'

Allison frowned. It wasn't that she didn't believe Isaac because she certainly did. But she wanted to talk to Scott about it herself. It didn't matter that it would be awkward. It needed to be done. They had unfinished business between them and all the supernatural havoc of late had kept them from sorting it out. She wanted to do that first, before crossing lines with Isaac.

So instead running her fingers through his hair like she would have liked to, she put a hand on his shoulder and shook him a little.

"Hmm?" Isaac responded without opening his eyes.

"Isaac, you fell asleep," she said, leaving her hand on his shoulder a little longer than she should have. It just wasn't fair for him to have such tempting shoulders.

He groaned. "No, I'm awake, I think," he said, blinking slowly. He turned his blue eyes to hers but they were still foggy with sleep.

Allison smiled. She couldn't help it. "Look, I'm too tired to take you home. Do you mind taking my car tonight and just coming back for me in the morning?"

He'd driven her car plenty of times over the last couple of months. She knew he didn't like it because he hated leaving her without transportation. But she figured if anything crazy went on in the middle of the night, she would have her father take her where she needed to go. Because if it was really _that_ crazy, they'd probably want him there too.

Isaac nodded and yawned. "Yeah, sure. That's fine," he replied. His eyes slipped closed again and she was forced to wonder whether or not he was actually awake.

Allison laughed and stood. "I'm gonna go take a shower and then I'm kicking you out," she said. Without letting herself think about it too much, she reached over and tousled his hair. She grabbed a change of clothes from her dresser and headed to the bathroom. She'd been right about his hair. It _was _incredibly soft. And if she'd stayed put just a second longer, she'd _still_ have her fingers tangled in it.

The hot water of the shower felt amazing. It always did after a sparring session. As she let it flow over her, soothing her sore muscles and washing away the grime, she let her mind reflect on the pack meeting from earlier.

_Stiles came back inside, smiling despite his puffy eyes and red nose. Allison was pretty sure that Isaac and Scott heard the whole conversation outside with Lydia, but neither of them were going to say anything. If there was one thing she'd learned about guys in her lifetime, it was that they were allowed to cry from time to time but they weren't allowed to talk about it. _

"_So where were we?" Stiles asked brightly as he flopped on the loveseat where Lydia had been sitting before. He propped his feet up and turned toward Scott._

"_Pros and cons on Aiden and Ethan joining the pack," Scott supplied. "But I'm pretty sure you're the only one against it."_

_Stiles shrugged and sighed. "Look, I guess I get it. If we keep them close then we can keep an eye on them, right? And like you said, we're lacking muscle. They're disposable muscle."_

"_They are not disposable," Scott argued, rolling his eyes._

"_Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night," Stiles countered with a smirk._

_Scott shook his head. He looked like he was about to retort but Isaac spoke up._

"_Speaking of sleeping," he said. "Allison didn't sleep great last night. Something left a handprint in her room."_

_Allison felt her stomach drop and she would have loved to kick him in the head. She would remember to take that out on him later if they got around to sparring. She tore her frustrated glare away, which in reality was doing nothing to the back of his head, and met Scott's worried eyes._

"_What?" he exclaimed, practically jumping off the couch._

_Allison sighed. "Look, I'm not sure it was anything, okay? I was tired. I was getting ready for bed. I thought I saw a muddy handprint on my dresser. But I did a whole check of the apartment. Not a single thing was out of place anywhere. And when I went back, it was gone. Totally gone. I'm pretty sure I imagined it."_

_Scott and Stiles shared a look that Allison understood to be their talk-about-it-later expression. She didn't like it._

"_If it has anything to do with the body in the woods, then that's one more clue for me to look up," Stiles said with a hand gesture. "It won't hurt to look into it. Unless of course you are…you know…nuts."_

_Allison pulled the decorative pillow out from behind her back and launched it at his head, pleasantly surprised when it actually hit him square in the face. He sputtered and looked offended but the rest of them were laughing so it didn't stick. _

She sighed and rinsed out her hair. Allison was seriously considering having Isaac stay the night and sleep out on the couch, just in case she wasn't crazy. It wasn't that she was afraid. She had the skills to protect herself. She didn't need anyone to do that for her. But she would have liked to have another set of eyes confirming what she saw. Because right now she sort of felt crazy. She had never seen something that wasn't there before. She was very accustomed to being able to trust her eyes.

She stepped out of the shower and dried off, dressing in the steamy room. She towel-dried her hair and brushed it before heading back to her room. For a minute she had thought about blow-drying it but she changed her mind. She was just too tired for that tonight.

When she entered her room, she froze. Something was terribly wrong. All at once, she felt her stomach roll over as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing.

It was Isaac.

He was still lying on the foot of her bed, but he was on his back. He no longer looked peaceful and carefree, however. And there was blood everywhere.

Allison's breath was caught in her throat, the coppery scent of the blood in the air noticeable to even her human nose. She couldn't have made a sound if her life depended on it.

His throat was cut. Dark blood had pooled on the comforter underneath him, soaking through his textbook, dripping down to the carpet on the floor below. His sightless eyes were open, staring at the ceiling without seeing anything. He was beyond seeing. She could tell from here, whether her brain would process it right or not, that he was dead.

Isaac was dead.

And there, the most damning evidence of all, was one of her ring daggers protruding from his chest.

She could feel the bile churning in her stomach. Her heart felt as if it had been shattered. She was beyond feeling. She was numb and uncomprehending. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.

Allison pulled her hands up to her mouth to hold back a scream and was startled to see that her other ring dagger was in her hand. In her right hand. And it was covered in what she could only assume was Isaac's blood. In fact, both her hands, her arms up to the elbows, were covered in blood. The front of her shirt dripped with it. There was a crimson pool at her feet.

All it once it was too much and she closed her eyes, a scream ripping its way free.

It felt like she was rising through water. And suddenly she sat forward, gasping for breath. She was terribly disoriented for a moment before she realized that she was still sitting in her bed.

With great heaving breaths, she looked around. There in her lap was her French homework. And there, across the foot of her bed, was a dozing werewolf. No blood. No knives.

It had been a dream. A very horrible, very realistic dream.

Without thinking much about it, she hastily crawled forward and grabbed his shoulder with both of her hands, shaking him violently.

"Isaac! Oh, god. Please wake up," she practically yelled, her heart still racing as if it wanted to fall out of her chest.

Isaac startled so hard that he rolled off the end of the bed in a heap of flailing arms and legs. He jumped to his feet in a defensive stance, his eyes wide and taking in the room around him. "What is it? Did something come in? What's going on?" he babbled, trying to figure out where the attack was coming from.

Silently, Allison felt the tears fall from her eyes. Her breathing was still hitching very unevenly. He was okay. It was a dream. She hadn't hurt him. She hadn't killed him. It had been a very convincing dream but it had been just that, a dream.

Isaac took in her tears and relaxed his stance a little. "Allison, what's wrong. What did I miss here?"

She stood up on her knees and reached out to him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. He came to her willingly enough and didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her when she tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder.

She was trembling violently, the images of his dead eyes still staring at her when she closed hers. "I just had a nightmare. A really bad nightmare."

Isaac didn't respond with words, reassuring her instead with the steady feel of his hands on her back, the one between her shoulder blades rubbing a little circle of comfort. He nuzzled her neck with his nose and she found herself wondering if that was a werewolf thing. She breathed him in and wondered what it would be like to do that with a werewolf's superior senses.

She could feel her heart rate speeding up again at his proximity and she knew he could hear it too. It was a little embarrassing to be involved, romantically, with a werewolf. There was no hiding from him. Everything she felt was generally broadcasted out in the open. Most of the time it bothered her. Not tonight.

He must have felt her stiffen because he released her and took a step back. He reached forward and tucked her hair behind her ears. She had expected it to be damp and then remembered that she hadn't actually taken a shower. She'd dreamed that part.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his bright blue eyes filled with worry.

Allison laughed to herself and sat back, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I think so. But, well. Can I ask you a favor?" She bit her lip.

"Of course," he said. "You can ask me anything."

She brought her gaze back up to his, deliberating for a moment.

"Would you stay?"

* * *

Scott was sitting in the kitchen, eating another piece of the leftover pizza, when he finally heard the knock at the door. He'd made his phone call about a half an hour prior and was starting to wonder if they were ever going to show.

He wiped his hands on his jeans and got up, heading to the front door. He could see them through the window as he walked through the entryway.

The twins were standing on the front steps, both with their hands in the pockets of their black motorcycle jackets, both gazing down the quiet street of the neighborhood. Scott knew that a lot of people had trouble telling them apart but for another werewolf, it was a simple task. The truth was, despite the fact that they were physically identical, they didn't smell the same. Aiden tended to have a mechanical smell. He spent more time tinkering with their bikes than Ethan did. Aiden also usually had a residual scent that reminded him of Lydia, though it wasn't something he liked to focus on. Ethan had a more papery smell, as he was more of a reader. He and Danny spent a lot of time studying in the library. And Ethan usually had Danny's scent all over him as well, another fact that Scott didn't like to think about. Scott wasn't bothered by his friend being gay, he just didn't like to think about any of his friends having sex. Just thinking about it felt like peeping, especially when his nose could tell him when it had recently happened.

Scott shook his head and opened the door, grabbing the attention of the twin werewolves.

"Hey guys," he said. "Thanks for stopping by. Come on in." He took a step back and opened the door all the way, motioning for them to enter.

Aiden shot Ethan a look and frowned. Ethan raised an eyebrow and took the first step with his brother close behind.

Scott led them to the kitchen where he took a seat at the island. He gestured at the empty seats and Ethan took one. Aiden, however, chose to stand. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, fixing him with an appraising look.

"So, you guys can probably guess why I called you over," Scott started, picking up a slice of pizza and taking another bite. There was still half a pizza in the middle of the island, cold but still delicious.

When Scott motioned for them to have some, Ethan shrugged and reached forward to take a slice but Aiden didn't move.

"We kind of figured this was coming," Ethan said around a mouthful of dough and cheese. He wiped at his chin with his free hand.

Aiden's jaw clenched a little. "How much time are you giving us?" he asked in a gravelly tone.

Scott swallowed his bite and cleared his throat. "Wait, time? What do you mean, time? Time for what?"

"To _leave_. How much time are you giving us until we need to be gone?"

Scott furrowed his brow. No one had said anything about leaving. "What? Why would I ask you to leave?"

Ethan turned and glanced over his shoulder to his brother, confused. "You mean, you _aren't_ asking us to get out of Beacon Hills?"

Scott shook his head. "No, absolutely not. Are you kidding me? I don't know if there are any official rules to this or not but I was going to ask you guys to join the pack."

At this, Aiden scoffed. "You can't be serious."

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Scott retorted. He put his pizza down and turned his attention to the more tense of the two wolves.

"We were trying to _kill _you," Aiden answered. "We tried to kill you a lot of different times. In a lot of different places."

"Yeah, but you didn't. Kill me, that is," he said. "And in the end you decided to help us. I don't know if you guys noticed it or not, but Lydia found a body in the woods last night."

Ethan frowned. "Yeah, we heard her."

Aiden turned his eyes away, shifting his weight a little. Scott could hear his heartbeat speed up and he wondered what that meant. He felt like it was from bringing up Lydia. Scott was starting to understand that the werewolf had actual feelings for the banshee. It would complicate things, he knew, but he didn't want to interfere there unless he was forced to.

"Well, we could use your help, figuring out what's out there," Scott said. "I can't have more deaths around here. I can't keep being worried about my friends and my family. So, thoughts?"

Ethan made eye-contact with Aiden and the pair seemed to have a mental conversation of some sort. Scott was fairly certain there was no actual telepathy going on. He and Stiles were able to communicate with a look too, just from being friends for as long as they had been. He imagined it had to be the same for the twins.

Ethan turned back to Scott. "We need to think about it."

Scott shrugged. "I expected that. But I really want to take care of whatever it is in the woods so let's say, what, three days or so? You'll get back to me?"

"And if we say no? What then? You ask us to leave?" Aiden said, eyes narrowed.

"I hadn't really thought about that," Scott admitted. "I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

The twins took their leave and Scott stood on the porch for a long time, watching as the stars made their way across the sky. It had been a very long day but he didn't think he could lay down and sleep yet. It was the first time in weeks that he hadn't felt incredibly tired and he wondered if it was because he suddenly seemed to have some sort of mission. He was exercising his authority for the first time since the eclipse and it felt good. He understood now why so many werewolves desired the title of Alpha. It could be addicting, this power. He knew that. Scott was really thankful that the friends he had in his pack, the people he loved and cared about, would never let him lose himself in it. They would never let him go overboard. It was a comforting feeling right now in a time when everything else seemed so uncertain.

As he turned to go inside, Scott caught the sound of a familiar engine coming up the street. He turned to watch as his father's dark sedan drove slowly past the end of the driveway. Scott crossed his arms and made eye contact with the man, staring him down. Apparently his father understood that it wasn't a good time to visit because even though he did slow down, he didn't stop. After his tail lights disappeared around the corner, Scott turned and went inside, locking the door behind him.

Dealing with his father was something he would have to do eventually, he knew. But bodies were showing up again and that was his primary concern.

His father could wait. He didn't have a choice.

…_to be continued…_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Guys! Thank you so much! I can't tell you how awesome the reviews have been and I'm not just saying that. I talk about it all the time to my family (who is probably really tired of hearing it, lol).

This chapter was really difficult. I loved writing the first scene but I was nervous about the second. How did I do with the twins? They were a lot trickier to write than I had anticipated. Let me know what you think.

Thanks so much for the story recommendations. Keep them coming. I love to know what other stories you guys are in to. If you're a fan of Stiles/Lydia/Derek relationships, I have a great story for you. "I Never" by GeneHarlow. It's a very adult story, so be warned. But it is very well written and tastefully done. The characterizations are spot-on. Make sure to drop a review over there as well. We writers live and breathe for reviews!


	10. Chapter 5b

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Five

"Broken Things"

* * *

…_continued…_

"Oh man, _thank_ you for these," Stiles said as a huge stack of books was dropped beside him on the table. "Don't get me wrong, I love the internet as much as the next guy. But it is so nice to look at some actual _books_ for once."

Allison laughed and laid the reusable tote bag on the table next to the stack. "Don't thank me yet, Stilinski. A few of these are in French. I have no idea if they'll be any help or not."

It didn't really matter. He would take anything at this point. Stiles felt like he was walking in circles with his research. His biggest problem was knowing what was worth reading into and what wasn't. How was he supposed to weed the possible out of all the impossible? Of course that was assuming that there were actual things out there that were impossible. After everything they'd been through since the night Scott was bitten in the woods, he wasn't ready to rule anything out. And unfortunately for his research, that was the problem.

Stiles shrugged. "Something is better than nothing," he said, picking up the top book and flipping open the cover. "This would be a lot easier if we had any idea where to start. Lydia always says you can't determine a pattern from one point of information, right? Well, turns out the genius was _freaking_ right," he said with a gesture at the stacks of printed material covering his table. The librarian had pouted as she watched him drain her printer cartridge earlier that morning with sheet after sheet. He'd been up until two in the morning using up his own ink. He hadn't managed to go to bed until his printer was throwing blanks. "How did you find all these so fast? Doesn't your dad have _hundreds _of books in his office?"

Allison shrugged and crossed her arms, leaning her hip against his table. "I couldn't sleep last night so I recruited Isaac. Two sets of eyes made it go faster. I mean, he can't read French but he did a pretty good job sorting through the ones in English."

Stiles raised an eyebrow but didn't look up at her, still half-focused on dividing the books into stacks. He put the ones in French to the side, figuring he'd check through all the English ones before worrying about those. "Wait, Isaac helped? What, did he stay at your place last night or something?"

When she didn't answer immediately, Stiles looked up to see her biting her lip and looking around the library as if she were afraid that someone would be listening in to their conversation.

"Oh my god. He _did_, didn't he?" Stiles said with a grin. It was no real secret that the two had been spending a lot of time together but he hadn't realized that extended to sleepovers.

Allison sighed, her cheeks going red. She pulled out the chair across from him and took a seat, burying her face in her hands. "Yes, okay? He did. But it isn't what you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

She scoffed. "How could you _not_ be thinking it? Everyone is thinking it. I know they are," She paused and dropped her hands, propping them up under her chin instead. "We were doing homework and I fell asleep and had the most disturbing dream I've ever had. I mean, ever. It was _really_ bad. So I asked him if he'd stay. I mean, it wasn't like I was scared or anything. It's just, I don't know. I wanted to have someone else nearby…you know…just in case."

Stiles just stared at her for a moment.

She threw her hands up. "He slept on the couch, okay? When I stopped doing busy work to keep myself awake, I made him go sleep on the couch."

"What is_ up_ with you two these days?" he asked, tapping the end of his pen on the desk. He could feel his legs itching to pace. He'd been sitting in the library a lot longer than he could usual go without getting up and moving around.

"I don't really know. But it isn't what everyone thinks, that's for sure. He and I…we aren't….well, I mean we're kind of like….god, I don't even know how to say it."

"Well, you don't have to explain it to _me_," Stiles said, leaning back in his chair. "I mean, I totally get it. It's kind of the same with me and Lydia. I mean, we survived something together, right? We all did. We're like, brothers forged in battle or whatever."

Allison nodded. "Yeah, exactly. Well, except things have been…I don't know. Tense? It has been lately, anyway."

Stiles smirked. "That's because the kid is head over _heels_ for you. Like, stupid in love with you."

He grinned a little wider as she squeaked and leaned forward, putting her head down on the table and hiding her face in her arms. He wasn't _trying_ to make her uncomfortable but he had to admit it felt kind of good to break through her usually tough exterior. "Tell me you did _not_ just say that," she said, her voice muffled by the sleeves of her jacket.

"Would it make it any less true?"

"Yes," she answered, peeking through her arms. "No. You know, I don't know."

Stiles just laughed, rocking his chair back on two legs.

Allison sat up and wrapped her arms around her middle. "Look, Stiles, can I ask you something?"

"He's knows and he's okay with it," Stiles supplied before she could ask.

She frowned. "How can you even know that? Have you talked to him about it? Oh god. Everyone is talking about it, aren't they?"

Stiles shook his head. "Nobody is talking about it. Besides, we don't _have_ to talk about it. Allison, we're guys. He's my best friend. We don't talk about the things that _don't_ bother us. We talk about the things that _do_ bother us. You and Isaac being, well, whatever the hell you are, hasn't come up once. Not once. So yeah, he's fine. Because otherwise he'd be complaining to me non-stop in his annoying pre-werewolf-Scott wining voice. Trust me."

Allison shook her head, smiling, and glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Oh crap," she said, jumping up. "Sorry, I need to go. I told Lydia I would meet her before class."

Stiles dropped his chair back down on all four legs. "Don't worry about it," he said with a shooing gesture. "And thanks for all the books and stuff."

Allison took her leave of him, scurrying out the library doors and off to meet Lydia.

Stiles sighed and took a mental inventory of what he had in front of him. He had decided to separate the stacks into distinct mythologies. There was a stack for Norse, and stack for Roman, a stack for Native American. He had more stacks than he knew what to do with and hundreds of pages of potentially repetitive information. He figured that maybe one page out of a hundred would be useful but until he went through it all, he wouldn't know which page that was.

He shook his head and groaned. This was really too much to worry about until after school. He was just going to pack everything up and worry about it later. Maybe he'd recruit Isaac to help him, since he'd done such a good job helping Allison. He figured it was a longshot but hey, it was worth a shot.

Stiles pushed his chair back, stopping when he felt it bump into something.

"Hey! Ow. Ouch."

Stiles jumped up and spun around to see Kira Jones standing there, clutching her knee with her books and papers splayed on the floor around her.

"Oh my god. I am _so_ sorry," Stiles exclaimed. "I had no idea you were behind me."

Kira waved him off, squatting down to pick up her things. "No, no. Don't apologize. That was totally my fault. I shouldn't have been lurking. Your chair just hit that nerve in my knee. I'm fine, really."

"Pfft," Stiles said. He reached down and started gathering up the colored pencils that had rolled under the table. "I have perfected the art of lurking. _That_ was not lurking."

Kira took the pencils that he offered her, blushing. "I was standing behind you, reading over your shoulder. How is that not lurking?"

"Lurking implies being sneaky. You weren't hiding behind a bookcase, watching with binoculars or anything," he paused and raised an eyebrow. "I mean, wait. Were you?"

"Uh, no. Where would I hide binoculars?" She asked, gesturing to her lack of backpack and pockets. She grinned, standing back up and leaning against the table behind her. "Yeah, so I definitely wasn't sneaky, not by your definition anyway."

"Nope," Stiles said. He straddled his chair and took a seat facing her. He wasn't sure he'd actually ever talked to her before. He knew she was in a couple of his classes. English at least for sure. But he hadn't actually had a conversation with her. He found himself wondering why. "Not sneaky. Just nosy."

Kira scoffed, tucking a long strand of black hair behind her ear. "What? I am _not _nosy."

"Uh huh. Did you already forget the part where you were reading over my shoulder?" he asked, gesturing with his thumb to the table full of papers behind him.

"Oh yeah, that," she said. "Well I mean can you blame me? Just look at your table. That is a lot of research. And I wasn't being nosy. I was being curious."

Stiles glanced back over his shoulder. "What, this? Nah, this is nothing really."

"Are you kidding?" she replied. She pushed herself away from the table and walked over to the stack of books that Allison had left for him. She picked up the top book, leafing through it a little. "This is one of the most extensive collections of mythological research I think I've ever seen. Well, in a high school anyway."

Stiles frowned and swung his leg back around so that he was facing his table again. He took a second to study the girl who was currently engrossed in flipping through the pages of the book she'd just picked up. Kira seemed genuinely interested in the books just for the sake of the books, turning the pages gently with a hand covered in silver jewelry. Her dark eyes darted from page to page as she took in what she could.

She was kind of attractive, in a book-reading, art-major sort of way. Not that Stiles had any sort of type. Well, other than Lydia. But this girl was somehow charming with her clumsiness and her honest curiosity.

"You say that like you've seen a lot of research," Stiles provided, glancing at the clock. He needed to get packed up. The bell was due to ring any minute now.

Kira looked up from the book and closed it, laying it delicately on top of the others in its stack. "Oh I have. My father is a professor over at the community college," she said. "Teaches Ancient Cultures."

Stiles was a little stunned. Screw Isaac. This girl would be a _lot_ more useful than the werewolf would be.

"You know, I don't think I introduced myself," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Stiles. Stilinski."

She laughed and shook his hand. He couldn't help but notice how tiny her hand seemed in his and was surprised at the strength in her grip. "I'm Kira. But you know, I know who you are. I mean, I sit two seats behind you in English. I have all year."

"Yeah," Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, no. I mean, yeah, I know."

She just shook her head as he stumbled over his words and he cursed himself for sounding like an idiot.

The bell rang, causing them both to jump. Stiles rolled his eyes at himself and started piling all his research into the tote that Allison had left for him.

"Look, I've got to get to History," she said, nibbling her bottom lip for a second. "But you know, maybe I'll see you here again sometime."

Stiles stood up quickly, leaning one hand on the table. "Yeah, that sounds great. And you know, I'll try not to abuse you with furniture next time," he said, gesturing with his free hand to the chair behind him.

Kira laughed again and left him to finish gathering up his papers. After he was sure she was gone, he ran both hands through his hair and groaned. He was so unaccustomed to interacting with anyone outside of the pack lately. He hadn't expected it to feel so weird, talking to someone who didn't know about those things that went bump in the night.

But it was a little nice for a change, to talk to someone who wasn't as surrounded in darkness as he was. He shouldered his backpack and hoisted the heavy tote. He made a mental note to talk to normal people more often. Somehow, his five minute conversation with a normal girl had brightened his whole morning.

And he could certainly use a little more brightness these days.

* * *

He was very frustrated. After regaining his composure the night before, he'd spent hours scouring the forest for a hint of what he'd felt in his mind.

But he had come up completely empty. Whoever, or whatever, had blinded him with its trickery had fled the forest without leaving a trail. He was furious. He didn't want something else to be hunting in his woods. He was the protector here and he wouldn't let anyone or anything bother the natural cycles of the forest.

Which included Man.

He knelt and deposited his most recent meal at the edge of the forest next to one of Man's many roads.

This particular human had been hunting in his forest too. But where the other…creature…had been able to incapacitate him, the human hadn't been so lucky. In fact, the man had never seen him coming. A quick branch through his middle and he was finished, his limp hands dropping the rifle he was carrying into the leaves below.

The immediate feeling of nourishment was very similar to his other meal, only this one came with the added benefit of knowing he'd avenged one of his fallen forest-mates. Before he'd been able to pull the man toward his tree form, the man had shot and killed one of the deer who called these woods their home.

The man had never made it to his kill. He'd stumbled toward the tree instead, feeling that it was much more important to get to this particular tree than it was to find his wounded prey somewhere in the underbrush.

But the human was dead now. And before long the other humans would come along and take away the body so he wouldn't have to deal with it.

There was another body that he needed to take care of, however. The poor deer.

She hadn't survived the shot, bleeding profusely as she tried to drag herself to the stream that parted the center of the forest. He knew that she'd been in pain and thirsty, using the last of her strength to pull herself to water. She'd died in pain and thirst and he felt devastated. He suddenly wished that he had drawn out the human's death, making sure the man felt all the pain and horror that this poor doe must have felt in her last moments. But alas, he couldn't go back and kill the human a second time so there was no point in thinking about it.

He carried the body of the doe back to the clearing where his Nemeton rested. Her body was still covered in beautiful blooms. Pinks, yellows, reds, oranges, and even a few shades of purple and blue. It would have been beautiful to him if it hadn't been so sad. Those flowers would live as long as he did, never wilting and never dying. They would always be beautiful, as long as he stayed to protect the forest.

He shifted into his tree form and used his roots to open a hole in the forest floor beneath the body of the deer. He closed it over her body, praying to the spirit of the animal. He prayed that her spirit bleed back into the forest, lending its energy and life force to other beings in need. He could feel the moment the spirit released and it filled his heart with peace.

Now that he'd fed twice, he was feeling more of the forest than he had before. He was stronger. Still not strong enough to leave the confines of the woods. But it wouldn't be long now.

Then he'd be able to finish what he'd been Called for.

After which, he intended to finish this Caller.

"_But if there's one real thing I could choose to believe, Just a little hope would do the trick."_

_ Mayday Parade "You're Dead Wrong"_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews guys. This has been such a pleasure to write. It warms my heart like you wouldn't believe when I get up and have several new reviews to reply to. I answer every single one (that allows pms and who has signed in, of course) because I value them so much. To all of you guests who have reviewed, thank you so much.

So what do you guys think about this one? It really kicked my butt as I decided how I wanted the first half to play out. I love the idea of Allison and Stiles interacting, because you don't see that a lot on the show. You have to think they do, in those missing moments between one crisis and another, but it isn't shown often. I thought I'd take a stab at it. And for all of you hoping that Isaac and Allison snuggled together all night after her nightmare, so sorry! They weren't ready for that. But they did stay up most of the night, flipping through books together….sigh. It'll get there, lol.

Another story that I found guys! Just to let you know, none of the stories or authors I recommend have asked to be plugged. They are just stories that I've found while browsing that I think you guys might like, if you like mine.

"The Waking" by birthsister is fantastic. It's a rated M fic and for good reason. If you are a fan of Lydia, this is a good and powerful one. She doesn't have many reviews but she deserves them for sure. Stop by and let her know what you think.

Love guys. Lots of love to you all.


	11. Chapter 6a

Moving in the Dark

Lucawindmover

Chapter Six

"Calling"

"_Storm on the way, we forget what it's for."_

_Hunter Hunted "Gentle Folk"_

* * *

Isaac yawned and laid his pencil down. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, wishing that his werewolf stamina extended to sleep deprivation. He was sure he hadn't gotten a whole hour of sleep last night and he couldn't quite get his eyes to focus.

After Allison asked him to stay, he called Scott to let him know not to worry when he didn't come home. That had been a weird conversation, telling his Alpha that he was going to sleep at the guy's ex-girlfriend's house. But, after stepping out on the balcony to talk without being overheard, he told Scott about how Allison had woken up all freaked out. Scott agreed that someone should keep an eye on her, knowing just how out of character it was for her to break down like that over a dream. He had sounded a little begrudging but he didn't give Isaac a hard time about it, for which he was endlessly thankful. If his Alpha had drawn the line there, Isaac would have left, no question. But it wouldn't have been easy to leave Allison like that after her request. So he was glad that he hadn't been put in the position to make that choice.

Of course that left Mr. Argent. He had clenched his jaw, taking in his daughter with her arms wrapped around her middle, refusing to meet his eyes. When Mr. Argent had turned that glare to Isaac, he'd put his hands up and shrugged, trying to indicate that he had no idea what was going on with her but not didn't to say it out loud.

Apparently, Allison's father had gotten the message. It was _his_ decree that Isaac sleep on the couch. His bedroom door was directly off the main living room and he made sure to keep it open, just in case Isaac tried to sneak off and defile his daughter in the night.

But Isaac wasn't even thinking along those lines. If she initiated anything physical, beyond the one hug they'd shared, he figured it would just be from the leftover adrenaline from her nightmare. He didn't want to take advantage of her momentary distress. It felt like cheating. He was determined not to push her. If things between them crossed those lines, it wasn't going to be because of a nightmare.

So instead, they'd stayed up to the wee hours of the morning, sorting through books in her father's office. Isaac had taken a year of French in school, and even though he'd gotten great grades, it had just been the very basics of the language. A lot of the books that they were going through were not only in French, but French from hundreds of years ago. He was completely out of his depth.

He could tell that she was just trying to keep herself awake. Whatever she had dreamt had bothered her badly enough that she didn't want to close her eyes again. The one time he'd tried to get her to tell him about it, she'd shot him down. She really didn't want to talk about the dream. He thought about pressing but decided that she could keep it to herself if that's what she wanted.

By the time his head hit the pillow on the couch, the sky outside was already starting to lighten. It felt like he'd only blinked before Allison had shaken him awake, telling him that if he wanted a shower and change of clothes then they needed to leave now.

So he was tired. He was beyond tired. He'd once asked Derek why sleep deprivation was one of the few things their werewolf abilities didn't touch and Derek had told him to look it up for himself. So Isaac had taken to the internet and discovered that when food is plentiful and danger is scarce, wolves nap a lot. Apparently, that had transferred over to werewolves. Isaac knew it made sense. When the Darach had been serving up sacrifices and everyone was on edge, he felt like he didn't sleep for whole days straight, mostly without even noticing it. But once the danger had been done away with, he slept like the dead at night. He hadn't slept as much as Scott had, but he figured that Scott's sleeping had something to do with his Alpha transition.

He suppressed another yawn by biting his knuckles before going back to taking his Calculus notes.

He glanced up at the clock to see how much time was left in class when he caught a glimpse of Lydia a few desks over. Her face was starting to get really red and she was waving her hand, fanning herself as if she were getting hot. Isaac furrowed his brow. Stoic and composed Lydia Martin didn't usually look so panicked. But as he watched, her eyes started to water and she began to bite her lower lip. It almost looked like she was choking.

He looked over to the teacher, who was still droning at the board, explaining complex formulas or something. Isaac was completely lost, focused on his packmate instead.

Finally she gagged and clamped both her hands over her mouth. She jumped up from her chair and darted toward the door, her heels clicking as she ran.

The teacher turned around, stunned. But she didn't even have time to call out before Lydia was through the door.

Isaac slid out of his chair and went after her, ignoring his teacher calling him back. The teacher could do whatever she wanted to reprimand him about it later. Right now, his packmate needed him and he had to go. It didn't matter that Lydia wasn't a wolf. Scott had pulled them all together and Lydia now smelled like pack to him as much as Scott or Stiles did. As much as Derek and Cora and Boyd had before everything had gone to hell in a hand-basket.

He could follow her scent easily enough and caught up to her just as she made it outside. She stumbled through the door and out into the common area near the cafeteria. She took another three or four steps before collapsing to her knees. He expected to see her throwing up, from the position she was in, kneeling and leaning over, her fingers gripping the grass beneath her hands. But that's not what happened.

The first wave of sound was so intense that Isaac could feel his teeth rattling and his breath was knocked out of his lungs. It was her banshee wail. He had never been this close to her when she wailed before and he was wishing he wasn't now. He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking with the vibration of her scream as wave after wave of her wail washed over him.

The moment seemed to extend endlessly when in reality it was only seconds.

The end of the wailing was almost as bad as the first wave had been. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of him as her energy pulled itself back into her body. He gasped and stumbled over to her as she slumped forward, pressing her forehead to the ground.

She was shaking and dry-heaving. Isaac could hear her heart beating as if she had just finished a marathon. He knelt beside her and grabbed her upper arms, pulling her up to a sitting position. Her skin looked clammy and flushed, the hair around her face plastered there with fever sweat.

"Oh my god," she whispered hoarsely. "Oh god, that hurt_ so_ bad. I've never…ugh…I've never tried to hold it in before. That was _such_ a bad idea."

Isaac shrugged off his gray sweater and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was shaking. He had no idea if it was because she was cold or if it was some sort of residual effect of the wailing. But he didn't know what else to do.

"This means someone is dead, doesn't it?" he asked, feeling like it was a stupid question but not knowing what else to say.

She nodded and bit her lip. "Yeah. There's a body out there." Slowly, her eyes grew really large and she grabbed his shoulder, pushing herself to her feet. "I have to go find it. Right now, Isaac. I have to go find it. Oh god."

Isaac stood and grabbed her elbow before she could rush off. "Wait," he said as she spun around to look at him. "You shouldn't go by yourself. What if the killer is out there? I mean, the killer _is _out there, you know, somewhere. So you can't just go, okay?"

Before she could respond, the door behind them crashed open as Scott and Aiden came barreling through it.

"Lydia!" Scott shouted, jogging over to them. "Are you okay? That was _really_ intense."

"Try being right beside her when she did it," Isaac said, wiggling a finger in his ear. He still wasn't sure he was hearing properly.

She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm okay. Sorry. Sorry about the intensity. I can't control it. I think it was worse because I was trying to hold it in. I didn't want to start screaming in class. It's already a miracle that I haven't been put in an institution. I can't keep giving people reasons to think I'm crazy. Oh, god. I'm rambling. I'm rambling and I can't stop it because I need to go. I have to go right now, Scott, there's a _body_."

Isaac let go of her elbow and stepped back as Aiden moved forward. The part of him that recognized Lydia as pack was very tense about letting an Omega near his packmate. But the part of him that was human knew that he couldn't tell her boyfriend to back off. That's how fights happened. He was trying really hard to stop getting in fights with the twins. He knew they had changed sides. He knew that Scott wanted to invite them into the pack to keep closer tabs on them. But Isaac still had to fight the urge to pummel them, particularly Aiden, any time they were within sight.

"Lydia, what can I do?" Aiden asked in a soft tone that Isaac was sure he'd never heard from him before. Ethan, maybe, but certainly not Aiden. He reached a hand out to pull her in closer.

She shrugged him off and batted him away with her tiny hands. "Get Stiles. Somebody get me Stiles. I need _Stiles_," she mumbled as she started to pace. "I _need _him. He has to come with me. We have to get to the _body_. I can't…guys. Help me…I can't breathe. I have to go _now_." She was shaking out in front of her as if they were wet.

Aiden backed away with a frown and a clench of his jaw. This could not have been the answer he was hoping for.

Scott already had his phone out, texting his best friend. "Lydia, we're on it. Stiles is on his way to the Jeep. He says for you to meet him there."

She nodded quickly and turned on her heal, walking in the direction of the parking lot, her strawberry blonde hair waving behind her at the brisk pace she set. Just as she turned the corner, Isaac's Calculus teacher came through the doors behind them.

"Mr. Lahey? Where is Miss Martin? What are you all doing out of class?" She asked, fixing the three werewolves with a stern look.

Scott was the one to answer, for which Isaac was thankful.

"Sorry Mrs. George. Lydia got sick. I think she's heading to the nurse. Isaac called us," he said, gesturing toward the other two. "But, uh, we're all going to go back to class now, right?" he asked, glancing back to Isaac.

He nodded. "Right. Yes. Class. Sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mrs. George sighed and gestured for them to head back inside. Aiden and Scott each went toward their classes, leaving Isaac to walk with his teacher who lectured him along the way.

Isaac nodded and apologized as necessary, narrowly avoiding detention for chasing after Lydia. But his mind couldn't be farther away, worrying about whatever it was causing bodies to show up in Beacon Hills again.

* * *

Lydia was leaning on the hood of Stiles' Jeep, her heels kicked off and laying on the sidewalk and Isaac's sweater tied around her waist. Her feet probably should have been cold but she couldn't feel it. She felt like she was burning up, her cheeks flushed and the back of her neck sweaty. She knew it was from trying to hold in her wail. She'd felt it in her chest like a white-hot fire, demanding to be set free. Dashing out of the room had been her last resort. She was thankful that Isaac had been there to make excuses for her since she had been completely unable to do that herself. She hoped he had the presence of mind to grab her things at the end of class. She'd left her purse and her messenger bag just sitting there. She didn't have her phone. She didn't have her keys. She hadn't been able to be bothered by such trivial things.

But the surplus energy from the wail was starting to wear off a little now and her brain was working more clearly. She still had the anxious impulse to go find the body but it was at a more tolerable level now. She was able to think through it. She knew that if she tried to put off finding the body for any length of time though, she'd lose it. But right now, her brain was clearing up and she was starting to think of the more mundane things that hadn't been apparent to her before.

Aiden had come when she wailed.

She turned toward Stiles' Jeep and covered her face with her hands, leaning her elbows on the hood. She had broken things off with Aiden the night before, telling him that she no longer wanted the kind of relationship that they had. He had offered her more, telling her that they didn't have to keep it just physical if she needed more than that. It had broken her heart a little, knowing that _she_ was the one who couldn't give him what _he_ needed. When he asked if there was someone else, she had hastily said there wasn't. Because at the time, she'd thought it was true.

But then, in her moment of weakness, when her body and brain were circling the drain and she could hardly put a sentence together, she'd asked for Stiles. Not just asked but demanded. Said she _needed_ him.

She was mortified. What did the others think about that, her requesting Stiles' presence over anyone else? How likely was it now that Aiden would go on a killing rampage with Stiles at the top of the list? She didn't know. It was possible that she was over-thinking it, her brain latching on to something, anything to keep her from running off in the direction of the body. Because Isaac had been right. Whatever caused the body to be dead was still out there somewhere and she really shouldn't go off by herself. So maybe worrying about how she felt about Stiles was just her way of keeping herself grounded.

"Lydia!"

She dropped her hands from her face and turned to see the boy in question jogging toward her.

"Hey, are you okay?" he said, bending down to pick up her shoes. "Scott texted me and told me about the wailing. What happened?"

Lydia took her shoes from him and walked around to the passenger side of the Jeep. "I wish people would stop asking me if I'm okay. No. I'm not okay. As long as I'm doing these banshee wails I will not _be_ okay. Let's just get that straight."

"Alright," Stiles said, opening the driver's side door and hopping inside. "But I'm going to ask you if you're okay. Every time. You're gonna just have to get over that."

Lydia climbed into the vehicle, slamming the door behind her. She sighed. "Sorry. I don't mean to snap at you. I'm just, well. I don't feel good and I have to get to this body." She paused and fixed him with a curious glance. "Wait, Scott had to tell you? You didn't hear the screaming?"

Stiles shook his head, turning on the Jeep and putting it into gear. "No, I've never really heard it. More like felt it," he said, backing out of his parking spot. "But I've been thinking about that. I think maybe regular humans can't hear it. But we feel it, that's for sure. That's a thing."

"Feel it?" she asked. "What does it feel like?"

Stiles seemed to think about this for moment as he turned to head out of the parking lot. Lydia pointed to the left at the exit without really thinking about it and he followed her directions. "It kind of feels like, I don't know, a blast of heat? Kind of like the overhead vent started blowing for a second or something. I looked around and it seemed like everyone felt it, but no one really put it together as something unusual."

"Huh, weird," she said, feeling her brain starting to go fuzzy. She knew her mind would rather be in a trance for this body-finding business but she was determined not to let it get the best of her. The other night had been hard because she'd been tired. She couldn't fight it. This time she wanted to be aware, or try to be, if it was even possible. But she felt herself slipping.

"Talk to me about something, Stiles. I can't…I don't want to fall into a trance again. I hate losing time. It makes me feel crazy. I need you to talk to me," she said, turning to watch him drive.

"Oh yeah, okay…um. Let's see. Something to talk about, something to talk about...Uhhh…" he trailed off, his eyes darting around as he drove. She indicated for him to take the next right and he complied, pulling onto a road that wove around through the woods.

"Oh!" he suddenly said, snapping his fingers. "I think I found someone who can help us with research."

"Who?"

"You know that girl Kira Jones? Allison said you guys have History together?" he said. "Her father teaches at the community college. Get this. His class is Ancient Cultures."

Lydia frowned. "Kira? You know that girl?"

Stiles' brow furrowed at the expression on her face. "Why do you say it like that? Yes, I know her. She's in my English class."

Lydia crossed her arms. She didn't like this one bit. "How long has she been in your class? Just this week?"

"What?" he asked with a laugh. "No, Lydia, she's been in school with us all year. Where have you been?"

Lydia pursed her lips. This was the final straw. This mystery girl might have everyone else fooled, but Lydia would be damned if she let the girl fool Stiles. He was absolutely off-limits.

"I need to talk to you about something and I need you to take me seriously, okay?" Lydia said. "Wait, pull over here first."

Stiles did as she asked, pulling the Jeep over to the side of the road. He set the parking break and turned in his seat toward her. "Okay, what's up? What is this thing I need to take seriously?"

Lydia took a deep breath and started. "Look, okay ever since we got back to school this week, something weird is going on. Suddenly Kira is in a class with all of us at some point. She has History with me and Scott and Allison, she has English with you, she has Chemistry with Isaac. And I've talked to everyone about it and you all agree that she's been here since the beginning of the school year. But here's the thing," she said, biting her lip for a second. "I never saw her, not one time, until this week. Monday was the first time I ever noticed that girl. I'm telling you, there is something weird going on. I figured out of everyone, you'd be the most likely to believe me. Because trust me, everyone else has just blown me off about it."

Stiles opened his mouth for a second, as if he was going to say something, and then just closed it again. He frowned and turned to look out the windshield, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. After a moment, he turned back to her. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "Absolutely. I get weird vibes off her the same way I do around dead bodies. I don't know what's going on with it, but I'm telling you, it's weird."

Stiles furrowed his brow. "You know, in my mind I feel like I've known her since the beginning of the school year. But I can't remember ever meeting her for the first time. Well, except for today in the library."

"You were alone with her in the library?" Lydia asked. She felt her shoulders tensing and the heat rising up her neck again, but this time it had nothing to do with the dead body in the woods.

Stiles shrugged. "I wouldn't say we were alone. I mean, it was right before school so there were tons of people in the library."

"What did she say to you? Was she being weird? Why was she in the library?"

Stiles threw his hands up, an amused expression on his face. "Chill, Lydia. What is with the third degree? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

"Well, I'm not," she snapped a little too quickly. "I'm telling you, there is something weird about her. Something supernatural. I just don't want anyone to be alone with her. Least of all you."

"Why? Because I'm just a human with no ability to take care of myself?" he asked with a roll of his eyes.

Lydia took a deep breath. "No, not because you're human. Just because, you're well…you're my friend. You're the only person I can study with. And you're the best researcher. And you know what, yeah. Because you're _human_. You're the last normal human. We need you, Stiles. You are what helps the rest of us hold on to what little humanity we have left."

He didn't seem to know what to say to that but, luckily, he didn't have to say anything. Lydia finally couldn't hold it off any longer and opened the car door, stepping out. She was still barefoot, her shoes forgotten in the floorboard of the Jeep. She took a few steps down into the ditch and jumped across to the other side. Stiles was right behind her as she climbed the slight bank and pushed through the first edge of the brush.

"There it is," she said, pointing to the body of the hunter sprawled before them.

Stiles sighed, looking weary. While he took in a few of the details he needed for his research, Lydia made her way back to the Jeep to sit down. She felt like she was simultaneously buzzing with energy and exhausted. She hated her banshee wail. It hadn't been long enough since the last one. She was feeling really off. And she was hungry. Really, really hungry.

Part of her wondered how much of her icky feeling was because of the stupid wail and how much of it was because of her stupid declaration. She climbed back into the Jeep and used Isaac's sweater as a pillow against the dashboard. She had barely closed her eyes when she heard the driver's side door open.

"Well, I called dad. He said we should be out of here before they get here," he said, putting the key in the ignition. "It'll be a little hard to explain how we managed to stumble on_ both_ bodies."

She sat back and nodded, fastening her seatbelt.

"Look, Lydia," he said. He hadn't moved to start the vehicle yet. "I'm sorry everyone was blowing you off about Kira. I'm gonna ask around about her and help you figure this out. We'll find out if it's you or if it's her, I promise. But I believe you. And I don't think you're crazy, for what it's worth."

Lydia nodded, trying to ignore the knot in her throat. He sounded so sincere. It was hard not to believe him. Stiles. The last human. The strongest of them all, as far as Lydia was concerned. Not that she would tell him that. He didn't need to get a big head about it, after all.

"So, don't take this the wrong way. You know you're gorgeous. That being said, you don't look so good," he remarked. He finally started the Jeep and pulled out on the road. "Why don't you come back to my house for a bit? I…well…I think I would feel better if you weren't alone. I was just going to do some reading. Allison gave me a huge bag of books and I have, I don't know, like a _thousand_ pages of stuff I printed off from the library. I'm telling you, I think I might have killed an acre of trees with all the—"

"Stiles," she said, interrupting him. "You're rambling."

He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah….I do that, don't I?"

She smiled in spite of herself. "Your place is fine. Assuming you have something low-calorie to eat?"

Stiles laughed and shifted gears, turning them toward his home.

_...to be continued…_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: I had so many guest reviews this time! Thank you guests! I can't address all of them here because it would add another thousand words to the chapter, lol. Feel free to PM me with any questions though. I always love to respond to reviews!

One thing I will touch on though, since more than one person expressed concerns. Kira will not be your typical OC Mary-Sue character. There are A LOT of stories in this fandom right now revolving around OC Mary-Sue characters and they really don't do it for me. I'm not a fan. So don't worry on that front. There is a very specific reason for Kira and I think all of you will be very satisfied with that story element. If you've loved the story to this point, I promise you I will not disappoint you. Cross my heart and hope to die.

Thanks for your story suggestions. I would love to hear more of them! And as always, your reviews are what keep me going strong. I look forward to hearing from all of you.

Luca


	12. Chapter 6b

Moving in the Dark

Lucawindmover

Chapter Six

"Calling"

…_continued…_

* * *

Beacon Hills High School had three lunch periods and students were sorted into one lunch period or another based on their class schedule. Allison had always been in the first lunch period of the day and that had never bothered her before. Usually, she had lunch with just Lydia since none of their other friends were in this lunch period. The two of them always brought their own food. Lydia had influenced her to start making salads at home and bringing them in, since the quality of the ones offered in the cafeteria was never consistent. Sometimes they swapped gossip from the hallways. Other times they caught up on homework that they couldn't get done with one supernatural emergency or another dividing their time. It didn't usually matter what they did, as long as they did it together. Lunch was one of the few times they ever seemed to have together any more.

Allison sighed as she looked down into her container of chicken Caesar salad. It should have tasted amazing. But her nerves were frayed and she was worried about her friend. Allison might as well have been eating cardboard. She shook her head and put the lid back on the container. She couldn't eat. Maybe she'd pass it off to Isaac and make him eat it so it didn't get wasted.

About half-way through her Chemistry class earlier today, she'd been startled out of the lecture by what felt like a wave of warm air hitting her. The way it lingered on her skin, like a skim of oil on water, made her think it wasn't just the furnace kicking on. She glanced around and saw that nearly everyone had noticed it, which made her feel a little better. After having seen something that wasn't there on the dresser in her bedroom, she'd been questioning all of her senses. But no one else seemed to realize that there was something other-worldly about it. Well, no one other than Aiden anyway.

Their eyes had met across the crowded classroom and she could tell that his werewolf senses were picking up something that she couldn't detect. After a second of deliberation, he slid out of his seat and left the classroom, completely oblivious to their teacher calling after him. That was the last she'd seen of Aiden. He hadn't come back to class and she hadn't seen him in the halls.

Allison had spent the remainder of the class texting all of her friends, trying to get some sort of information on what was going on. Stiles and Lydia didn't answer. Scott told her not to worry. Isaac assured her that he'd meet her after Chemistry and fill her in but that everyone was okay. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so useless, forced to take notes on a lecture that she wasn't able to focus on.

When class ended, as sort of an afterthought, she'd grabbed Aiden's books from where he had left them on the table. She wasn't sure what possessed her to make sure his things didn't get left behind. She just figured that there had been something in that shared glance that reminded her that they were on the same side. In the sea of normal humans around them, she and Aiden were the ones who were different. And while they'd once been adversaries, they were still members of the select few who knew what kinds of monsters really roamed the world. Whether the twins decided to join the pack or not, Allison realized that they were all still members of a brotherhood separate from the rest of humankind.

So she had carried Aiden's books with her as she went to meet Isaac.

_By the time she'd gathered everything up and headed out, Isaac was already waiting for her by her locker. _

"_Isaac, what the _hell_ is going on?" she hissed, clutching Aiden's books to her chest and lowering her voice so the other kids in the hallway didn't hear her. "I felt that blast of power or whatever and Aiden left like he was on fire. Scott wouldn't tell me anything and Lydia and Stiles aren't even answering me."_

"_Lydia did her banshee wail again," he responded, running his free hand through his hair. He leaned against the other lockers while Allison opened hers. "She barely made it out of class before it happened. She said there's another body out there. Stiles went with her, though. They're out finding it now."_

_Allison leaned her forehead on the cold metal of the locker next to hers, closing her eyes. Another body, another person dead while they scrambled to find a pattern with nothing to go on. Was it always going to be like this? Were they always going to have to worry about which family member, pack member, or friend was on the chopping block this time? It felt never-ending. The entire last year and a half had been the longest of her life. They were all growing up faster than nature had intended and, not for the first time, she wondered what the consequences of that would be._

"_You know we're going to figure this out, right?" Isaac asked, nudging her shoulder with his. That small gesture caused his scent to waft over her and even though she didn't have supernatural senses, she knew he smelled like fresh laundry and soap. Her stomach erupted in butterflies no matter how hard she tried to ignore it and she smiled, despite everything._

_She stood back with a sigh, forcibly removing the mirth from her face before he read too much into it. "Well, Aiden didn't come back to class. Do you have any idea where he went?"_

"_Huh," he replied with a frown. "I don't know. I really thought he did, go back to class I mean. But really, I wasn't paying attention to him. Too much other stuff to worry about, I guess."_

"_It's just, well, I have his books," she said as she put her own things back in her locker and grabbed her lunch. "I'll see Ethan at lunch though so I'll give them to him. He can be his brother's keeper. Not like he isn't used to the job."_

"_Here," Isaac said before she could close her locker. He handed her a purse and a messenger bag. "Lydia left these behind."_

Allison packed her lunch back into her bag. She just wasn't hungry. Instead, she stood and scanned the room, looking for Ethan so she could at least rid herself of the burden of his brother's books.

She found him sitting at one of the side tables with Danny. Ethan looked a little tense, listening politely to whatever Danny was telling him. He nodded and smiled at the right moments, but even from a distance Allison could tell his mind was elsewhere. She moved into his eye line and waved a little to catch his attention. She didn't just want to walk up to him. She needed to ask him about Aiden and whether or not he had any more information on the situation than she did. But she couldn't do that with Danny sitting there.

Ethan noticed her quickly enough though and excused himself from his boyfriend. Danny didn't seem to mind, glancing back over his shoulder and giving Allison a little wave as Ethan stood and made his way over to her.

"Have you seen my brother?" Ethan asked in a hurried whisper, motioning for her to take a seat at a nearby table.

Allison followed his suggestion and sat. They would draw less attention if they were sitting. She shook her head. "Not since Chemistry. I was going to ask you the same thing."

Ethan frowned and crossed his arms, sitting back in his chair. "I texted him after Lydia did her banshee thing but I never heard back from him. He's probably with her though, right?"

"I don't think so," she said. "Stiles went with her to find the body. Isaac thought Aiden went back to class but I never saw him," she paused and pushed Aiden's books across the table. "Here are his books, though. He left them behind."

Aiden furrowed his brow, staring at the books but not moving to take them. After a moment, he looked up and met her gaze. "Why did you do that?"

"What, grab his books for him?" she asked with a shrug. "I don't know. What was I supposed to do, leave them there?"

"I mean, why did you bother?"

Allison thought about it for a moment. "Well, Scott offered you guys an invitation to the pack, right?"

He nodded.

"That's just what we do," she said. "We take care of each other. It's not something we think about. It's just what we do."

Ethan seemed stunned. It was as if the idea was totally foreign to him. "That would extend to _us_, if we say yes?"

Allison nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, pack is pack. Around here, that means something. I'm not even a wolf but it's something I understand. Pack is more friendship than you get in a family and more family than you get from your friends."

Ethan shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I can't believe those words just came out of a human. Well, no offense," he said. He glanced back over his shoulder and Allison realized he was looking back at Danny. She had always suspected that Ethan had real feelings for their classmate, despite the fact that he'd started out as an assignment. On more than one occasion, he'd put himself in harm's way in order to make sure that Danny was safe.

"What about Danny?" Ethan asked, turning back to face her.

Allison frowned. "Danny? What _about_ Danny?"

Ethan sat forward a little, scooting his chair closer to the table. "He doesn't know anything. You know, about us. But he's come close to getting hurt a few times and, I don't know. I feel like he needs to know. Before the things he _doesn't_ know end up getting him killed."

He had a point. Danny was way too close to their pack, too involved in their everyday lives. They either needed to push Danny away or pull him in closer. While Allison wasn't sure which option was the safer course, she was pretty sure which option was the more likely to happen. She didn't think Ethan would give Danny up without a fight.

"I think you're right," she said, ignoring how strange it felt to be saying those words to Ethan, of all people. "And if you guys say yes to Scott, I'll let him know that I agree with you. But you know, I don't know if it'll help your case."

"I kind of feel like Scott would say yes," Ethan said with a shrug. "I mean, he was there in the emergency room when Danny almost died. He saw it firsthand."

Allison nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"I guess so."

"What's stopping you from just saying yes? You know, and joining the pack?"

He pursed his lips for a moment. "Aiden."

"You mean, if he says no then you'll say no too?"

He nodded.

"But what do you want?" she asked, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"What do you mean, what do_ I_ want? It's never been about what_ I_ want," he stated matter-of-factly. "Aiden calls the shots. He always has."

"It could be different," Allison said. "I mean, if you joined the pack and he didn't, you wouldn't have to follow him. You wouldn't have to be his shadow."

He shook his head, looking away. "You don't understand."

"Why? Because you guys used to meld together into some sort of freakish monster-alpha super wolf? I mean, think about it. You can't do that anymore. You don't need each other anymore. You can be your own person, if you want to be," she said. Then she motioned toward Danny. "If you have a _reason_ to be."

He was quiet, thinking over her words. She wasn't sure she'd gotten through to him but she felt better for at least trying. If they couldn't have both brothers, Allison would much rather have Ethan than Aiden. She wasn't trying to sow seeds of discord between the brothers. But she didn't like the thought that Ethan didn't have a say. She remembered the days when her mother had been in charge. Allison remembered what it was to be expected to blindly obey orders, to not be allowed an opinion. She didn't want that for anyone else, least of all someone who might be in their pack.

Because she had meant what she'd said. Their pack was stronger than the bonds of friendship. Their pack went beyond the obligations of family. They were a unit, each of them contributing to the whole. She wasn't sure how that dynamic would change with the twins added. But as she watched Ethan's face as he looked at Danny, she knew that at least one of the brothers would make a good addition.

And if there was hope for one, there was likely hope for both.

* * *

He was starting to feel like his old self again.

Two kills, two bodies-worth of life energy flowing inside of him. His vision was sharper. The reach of his roots and branches was farther. He knew, even without walking to the edge of the forest, that his range of motion had now extended beyond the trees. He was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could walk right past the last trees in the forest, right out into the world of man. How far it would be until he reached the barrier, he didn't know. He wouldn't know until he managed to test it.

There were a lot of things he felt like testing, now that his powers were returning.

The tether in his psyche, the link that tied him to the Caller, was humming with energy. He gave that tie an experimental tug, wondering if he could pull the Caller toward him the way he did with the hapless humans in the forest.

It seemed the Caller was a step ahead of him, however. Instead of pulling the Caller forward, he only managed to pull more images of the boy, the sapling Man he was supposed to do away with. The boy with the dark brown eyes, dark hair, olive skin. What was he to the Caller? Why would the caller want to rid the world of this child? Granted, he had the impression that this sapling was nearing adulthood, that he would soon shuck the skin of his youth and become the wise oak he was meant to be.

Wise oak? How long had it been since he'd thought of a human in that fashion? Had he ever? The thought was unlikely to have come from the Caller because the Caller was human, as far as he could tell. He frowned. He wasn't sure where the impression of wisdom had come from and he would have to think about it at length before he made any decisions regarding the sapling.

He could feel it, a few moments later, when the humans entered his forest and this made him happy.

He shifted into his bird form, taking wing and flying toward where he knew he'd left his most recent meal. Before this kill, he hadn't been able to feel when humans came into his domain. He would have to actively search for them, taking to his tree form and reaching with his roots. But now he could tell when they'd crossed the barrier. This would make future hunting much easier.

For now he was satiated and he was less concerned with feeding than he was curious about the young humans.

The first thing he noticed was that they were the very same who had found the other body. This seemed suspicious to him. Why were these particular saplings finding his cast-offs? He landed in the tree above them, observing them more closely this time than he had the first.

Immediately he realized that the female wasn't entirely human. There was an energy to her, a well of power within her. It marked her as different from the stumbling boy next to her. He knew she couldn't possibly understand that power yet, because why else would she be still in the company of humans? She was young yet, he thought. She would come into her power eventually. And when she did, he would welcome her among his number. He would be lucky to have such a powerful ally.

The saplings didn't linger and, if truth be told, his interest in them had waned. He shook out his feathers and flew up through the canopy for the first time, the desire to see the entirety of his domain a compulsion that he couldn't resist.

The forest spread out before him like a blanket, a living and breathing cover to protect the denizens below. He would help protect this place. After a few more feedings he would be able to attain his true form once more and he would have no more reason to shift after that. He would use his true body to slay the Caller and protect this home.

He hadn't made his decision about the sapling. He would need to meet the future wise oak before he decided whether or not to take his life.

"_So hard to be brave, don't believe anymore."_

_ Hunter Hunted "Gentle Folk"_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: So sorry this is so late! Life has been a little busy. It's likely to stay that way as I've just gotten a part-time job in the evenings. It shouldn't break into my writing time, but I might be really tired for the first few weeks (it's a pretty physical cleaning position) while I'm getting used to it. My next few updates might be three or four days apart because of that and I hope you'll be patient with me.

The reviews! Guys! They have been so awesome. Truly they have. Thank you to all of the guest reviews. I wish I could respond to some of them personally because you guys have had some really awesome suspicions and predictions. But if I address them here I might give something away!

Thank you all so much for taking the time to review. It takes just a couple of minutes for you, but it means the world to me. We hit 100 reviews this last chapter. Here's to a hundred more!

So much love!

Luca


	13. Chapter 7a

Moving in the Dark

Lucawindmover

Chapter Seven

"Show Me How"

* * *

"_Your eyes, they shine so bright. I wanna save that light. I can't escape this now, Unless you show me how."_

_Imagine Dragons "Demons"_

"Are you sure this isn't going to kill me?" Lydia asked from the dining room table.

Stiles scoffed as he finished up in the kitchen. "Okay, you've stood up to crazy, homicidal druids, a kanima, and werewolves but you're afraid that my _cooking_ is what'll finally do you in?"

"Hey, stranger things have happened," she said. "I'm not sure I want to tempt fate at this point."

Stiles laughed as he carried two plates to the table. "It's not even cooked. It's sandwiches. Look, you were the one who said you were hungry."

"Right. _I'm_ the one that's hungry. You know that doesn't explain why you made_ two_ sandwiches," she pointed out as he sat her plate on the table in front of her.

He shrugged. "I'm a teenage boy," he said, taking a seat across from her. "I live in a perpetual state of hunger."

Lydia crossed her arms and looked down at the plate in front of her as if it might bite her. Stiles sighed. "Look, it's whole wheat bread, low-fat turkey, olive oil mayo, tomato, and baby spinach. It's as healthy as a sandwich gets. I make them for my dad all the time. The doctor told him to eat better."

He picked up his own sandwich and dug in. He would have been just as happy with peanut butter and jelly but he had figured that Lydia wouldn't want all the sugar. Since he'd been making hers special, he'd just made a second one for himself. What he'd said to her about being hungry all the time wasn't an exaggeration. Or well, it wasn't much of an exaggeration anyway. They hadn't gone back to school for lunch so he was starving.

He wasn't sure why he'd asked her to come back to his house. Immediately after she'd agreed, his chest had gone into highly-constricted mode. He hadn't expected her to say yes. He'd suddenly been incredibly nervous. They hadn't been alone together since he'd broken down and cried on her shirt, which in retrospect made him feel like an idiot. On top of that, Lydia Martin had never been to his house before. And now she was sitting at his messy dining room table, nibbling the turkey sandwich he'd made, her eyes darting around and taking in his home's usual state of disarray. If he'd known ahead of time that she was coming over, he'd have spent a day and a half scrubbing everything from top to bottom. He sincerely hoped she didn't need to use their bathroom. He knew it was a bachelor bathroom without even having anything else to compare it to.

"Is it okay?" he asked around a mouthful of food.

She finished chewing her first bite and swallowed before answering. "I've definitely had worse."

Stiles stared at her for a second and then went back to eating. "You know," he said. "It wouldn't kill you to compliment the guy who just cooked for you."

"Actually," she said. "That's another one of those things I'm not going to tempt fate with." She didn't smile as she said it but she didn't have to. The merriment in her eyes betrayed her and Stiles counted it as a victory. "Besides, you said it yourself. Sandwich does not equal cooking."

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, neither feeling like it was necessary to fill the quiet with needless chatter. That was unusual for Stiles. His default setting was needless chatter. There were only a few people on the planet with whom Stiles felt comfortable enough to be quiet. The first was his father. He and his dad could sit on the couch and watch whole baseball games, only commenting from time to time about a bad call here or a good catch there. Then there was Scott. Most of the time, he and Scott didn't have time to be quiet, especially lately. But when there was a break in the excitement, when things weren't so life-or-death, it wasn't uncommon for the two of them to hang out in Stiles' room. Scott would take the computer chair and Stiles would sprawl out on the floor with his feet propped up on his bed. They'd listen to music and read comic books. Other times they'd take over the big TV in the living room and play hour after hour of video games, never needing to speak a word.

But Lydia Martin? He had never seen the day coming when he would feel alright sitting in silence next to Lydia. He wasn't sure if it was their whole body-finding-team thing, the kiss they'd shared when she pulled him out of his panic attack, or the tears they had swapped the other day. Their slowly evolving friendship might have been the reason that he wasn't currently jumping from one topic to another. He wasn't sure what it was but he wasn't going to protest, that was for sure.

Lydia sighed and pushed her empty plate toward him. He was a little surprised. As petite as she was, he kind of assumed she would just pick at her food like a bird. But she'd finished almost the same time he had, and he _knew_ he hadn't chewed half his bites.

"So," she said, breaking the silence. "Where is all this research you're supposed to have to do?"

"Ugh, that," he said with a groan. "Yeah, I guess we really should get on it." Stiles grabbed their plates and took them to the kitchen, dropping them in the sink. He'd do them later. On his way back through the dining room he motioned for her to follow him. He grabbed his backpack, so full that he'd hardly been able to zip it closed, and headed toward his bedroom with his stomach in knots. He couldn't believe Lydia Martin was coming up to his room.

"I don't have the books that Allison brought me," he said over his shoulder as he pushed open the door to his room. "I left them in my locker. When Scott told me what was going on, I was kind of, you know. Out the door. No questions asked. No time to stop and grab a bag of ancient French books."

He stood next to the open door and motioned for her to come in, stepping aside as she walked past him. She pursed her lips and looked around for a moment, taking in his posters, his unmade bed, the overflowing basket of dirty clothes in the corner. Stiles realized he was holding his breath, waiting for some sort of verdict. She shrugged and reached over, pulling up the comforter on his bed and taking a seat on the edge of it.

Stiles relaxed and closed the door behind him. As he turned back around, a little too quickly, he heard a huge rip as his overly stuffed backpack finally gave up. All of his research fell to the floor with a crash, papers sliding in every direction.

"Oh, son of a…" Stiles exclaimed, trailing off as he took in the mess. He put his hands on top of his head, gripping his hair violently as he grit his teeth. Then he groaned in frustration and dropped his hands, his shoulders sagging.

Lydia rolled her eyes and huffed. She kicked off her heels and knelt down to start helping him pick up the pages.

"You know, this is just the sort of luck I've been having today," he muttered, grabbing and restacking as many pages as he could reach. "I forgot to make coffee this morning. That happened. And you know that light on the corner of 5th and Main Street? Yeah, broken on the way to school. And no one else seemed to realize that you have to treat that like a four-way stop. Because they're idiots. And yeah, finding more dead bodies. What the _hell_ kind of world do we live in when that doesn't even rank at the top of my list?" he paused to take a breath before starting again. "Oh, and you watch. I'll be covered in paper cuts by the time we're done. I swear to god, paper hates me."

"Paper can't hate you," Lydia interrupted before he could go on. She set one stack to the side and started on another. "Paper doesn't have ears."

Stiles paused and looked up at her. "Doesn't…have ears? What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked, gesturing wildly with the pages in his hands.

"It means," she said. "That it doesn't have to listen to your mindless rambling."

He scoffed and stood, walking over to his desk to see if he could find some empty folders. "Yeah well," he said with no real response in mind. "I suppose that…_is_…true. But you are _so _totally getting out of this one on a technicality."

"Stiles, what is this?" he heard her ask. He turned around to see her holding up a sheet of paper.

"What? An earless piece of paper?" he said with a shrug. He turned back to his desk and pulled out another drawer but still couldn't find any folders. "How the hell am I supposed to know? It's all the way over there and everything is totally mixed up. You can't use your genius brain to read it?"

He gave up on his search for folders, slamming the drawer and throwing his hands in the air. When he turned back around, hands on his hips, Lydia was still holding the same piece of paper. Whatever she was reading was making her frown, her dark red lips mouthing the words even as her eyes devoured them.

"What?" he asked with a sigh. He crossed the room with a couple of long strides and whipped the piece of paper out of her hands. As his eyes scanned the words, he felt all the color bleed from his face.

"Why are you researching near death experiences?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for an answer.

Stiles turned away from her quickly and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. He clenched his eyes closed tightly and took a second to think.

Of all the papers that could have fallen out of his backpack, why had Lydia found one of the few pieces he didn't want to share with anyone else? He was kicking himself for letting that get mixed in with all the other things.

He could hear the papers on the floor shuffle as she stood but he wasn't ready to turn around yet.

"This has something to do with the sacrifice, doesn't it?" she asked softly. She moved up behind him and reached out to him, grabbing his elbow.

He jumped a little at the contact. When he turned around and saw the worried look on her face, he knew he would have to tell her. She was worried about him. She was worried about _him_, of all people. How could he not tell her? Hell, why hadn't he told her before now? She'd been possessed. She'd seen someone who was dead. Why hadn't he thought of it? If anyone would know what it felt like to see someone who wasn't alive, it would be Lydia. And knowing all of these things, why did he still feel like he was swallowing hot coals at the thought of telling this girl about his mother?

"Yeah," he choked out. He swallowed hard. "Yeah, something did happen. I…uh…well. I saw my mom."

Lydia's observant eyes didn't miss the way that his had started to water. He cleared his throat and turned away from her again, walking over and taking a seat in his computer chair.

"Can you tell me about it?" she asked. She hadn't followed him over, choosing to stay standing in the middle of the room, her arms hugging her waist.

Stiles leaned his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands. "There's not a whole lot to tell. That's part of the problem. I can't remember everything."

Stiles looked up to see Lydia about to say something. But the sound of a motorcycle pulling into the driveway interrupted them. Stiles sighed and stood, going to the window to peek out of the curtains. Scott was just getting off the bike, tucking his helmet under his arm as he made his way to Stiles' front door.

"It's Scott," he said as he turned back around. "I'm sure he's wanting an update on the whole body-in-the-woods thing."

Lydia pursed her lips and nodded.

"Look," Stiles said, running both his hands through his hair. He could hear Scott let himself in the front door. Neither of them knocked at each other's houses anymore. "Can we…ugh. Can we talk about this later? The whole vision thing?"

She nodded. But as he tried to walk past her to meet Scott in the hall, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand, afraid to meet her eyes. "Promise me."

He sighed, trying to swallow the knot in his throat and not entirely succeeding.

"Yeah, I promise."

* * *

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Allison asked as she stepped over a fallen log, checking the ground on the other side for footprints.

Isaac shrugged. "No, probably not," he said, taking a deep breath and catching a hint of the scent they were following. As far as he could tell, they were still heading in the right direction. "But unless you want to sit around at Stiles' house translating those books you lent him, there's not a whole lot else we can do to help right now."

Allison groaned and continued to follow the tell-tale tracks on the ground in front of them. Isaac trailed along behind her, taking in a deep breath from time to time, making sure that the scent he was tracking still matched the footprints on the forest floor.

He'd been struck by the idea to try and track whatever was murdering people earlier that afternoon, just as school had let out for the day. As he had made his way through the hallway, heading toward the parking lot, he'd caught a whiff of Allison's lightly fragrant perfume. The scent of it had made his heart beat a little faster and he'd followed it toward her car where she sat waiting for him and listening to her music.

So he'd told her his idea, thinking that even if they didn't find whatever it was, they could still get some important information if he could catch its scent.

At the site of the first murder, they realized just how unlikely it would be for them to find anything. The whole scene was still cordoned off by yellow tape but there weren't any officials watching over the area. All personnel had been pulled to second murder. The problem wasn't that the area was still blocked off, it was that the police and emergency responders had completely trampled everything. Their scents covered everything from the leaves to the trees to the bushes. Humans had touched everything. Isaac wished he'd been able to go to the fresh scene but it would still be crawling with cops.

Allison was the one to make the trip out to the woods worthwhile. She managed to find a pair of tracks that led into the scene, snaking off into the woods. Isaac had put a scent to the tracks and they'd been following them through the trees for the last twenty minutes.

"Stiles is sure the thing isn't human, right?" Allison asked without looking up.

Isaac nodded and then realized that she couldn't see him. "Yeah, he's pretty sure. Why?"

Allison paused and crouched down, moving a couple of the leaves with a stick. "Come here and look," she said, pointing to the footprint.

He crouched down beside her, trying to focus on the print rather than the way her jacket brushed his elbow. He took a deep breath in an attempt to fix the creature's scent in his mind but Allison was too close and all he could smell was her shampoo.

"This is a human footprint," she said. Isaac forcibly pulled his eyes away from her focused expression to look at the space she was indicating. "I can tell it was carrying the woman's body because of how deep the impression goes. But the print is still human in shape."

The two of them stood up and Isaac ran a hand through his hair. "Just because it leaves human footprints doesn't mean it's human."

Allison dusted her hands off on her jeans. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Isaac said. "Me and Scott leave human footprints, right? But we're not, you know, human…exactly."

She smirked and raised an eyebrow. "You've got a point there."

She turned to continue along the trail and Isaac followed.

"Did you ever hear back from Scott?" she asked.

Isaac sighed and caught up a few steps to walk beside her. Her scent was in his nose now and walking behind her made it hard to follow the creature's smell. "No. I mean, I texted him right after school to tell him where we were going but he hasn't answered me. I'm guessing he went straight over to Stiles' and hasn't checked his phone. He never hears the stupid thing when he's on his motorcycle."

"I kind of don't want him to check it," she muttered.

Isaac laughed. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want us out here. I mean, if he'd gotten that message before we left, he'd probably have told us not to come without him."

"So you're afraid he'll be mad."

Allison pushed a couple of branches out of her way as they walked between several trees growing too close together. "I'm not afraid, no," she said. "But I _know_ he'll be mad. And I'm pretty sure _you'll_ be in trouble."

"Me?" Isaac asked, holding another couple of branches for her to go through first. "Why me?"

"Because you're the wolf and I'm the human," she said with a grin. "He'll be pissed that you brought me out here when there's a murderer running around."

"Whatever," he replied. "I can't make you do anything you don't already want to do. And besides. I can take Scott."

They had made it to a clearing. The tracks continued on around the edge of it, angling off to the left. Allison stopped and turned around, slightly winded, with her hands on her hips. "You can _take_ Scott? As in fight him?"

Isaac straightened up and crossed his arms. "Absolutely, yeah."

Allison burst into laughter. "No, no way. You can't even take _me_ and I'm human. He's the _Alpha_."

"What do you mean, I can't take you?" Isaac asked, taking a couple of steps toward her.

She grinned. "You. Can't. Take. Me." She stood her ground, refusing to step back as he advanced on her. "I have been kicking your _ass_ lately when we spar."

Isaac smirked, stopping within an arms-length of her. "Well, yeah. Because I _let_ you."

"What?" she replied. "No way. I have been legitimately kicking your ass and you know it."

Isaac shook his head. He'd been letting her think she was taking him down. In some of the cases, he hadn't been _letting_ her do anything. She'd caught him unawares and he'd been flat on his back before he even knew what was going on. But there had been several situations over the last few weeks where she'd left an opening that could have led to him taking her down and he'd just ignored it. "I've been going easy on you."

"Yeah, I don't think so," she replied. She stepped back and took her hands away from her hips, putting them behind her back. Isaac could hear the tiny clink that her daggers made as she pulled them from the sheath at the small of her back. "Prove it."

"Well, if you're sure…" Isaac trailed off, raising an eyebrow. He watched as she shifted her weight, evening the distribution over both her feet. She bent her knees a little, preparing to strike.

He watched as if she were moving in slow motion. There were times, in their usual sparring sessions, where it felt like he couldn't blink because he'd miss something if he did. And then there were other times where time slowed down and he had all the time in the world to react. He absently wondered if the difference came from being transformed. He wasn't now, not fully, but he'd felt his eyes shift the second her daggers were out of their sheath. That sound had become a trigger for him, causing his body to react without his mind telling it to do so.

He put his right leg back a little, bracing himself as she launched her attack. He grabbed her around the waist as she sprang forward, using her momentum to flip them over backwards. They rolled and ended with Allison flat on her back. Isaac hovered over her, his body weight pinning her legs and his hands pressing her arms into the ground over her head.

Allison stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathing hard. He could tell by her expression that he'd completely surprised her. He blinked twice and took a deep breath, feeling his eyes shift from golden back to his usual bright blue.

Her heart was racing in her chest. He could hear it. It wasn't unusual for her heartbeat to speed up while they were sparing. All the physical exertion would have them both sweaty and breathing hard. But this felt different.

All at once, it hit him. The part that was different. It wasn't just that her heart was racing. Her scent was different. It was arousal. He could smell her arousal. That realization caused his own heart to speed up. He was suddenly very aware of the way her hips were pressed beneath his, her legs tangled around his own. Her face was close enough to his that he could feel her breath, coming out in short pants.

He shifted his weight a little, sliding his hands up her forearms to her hands and knocking the daggers out of the way. She dropped them quickly enough, absently entwining her fingers with his as his hands moved over hers.

His breath hitched in throat as his eyes flicked to her lips. Her tongue darted out for a moment, wetting them in what he could only perceive was anticipation.

What were they doing? Was this really happening? Allison Argent, pinned beneath him in the middle of the forest, on the trail of a human-murdering monster, licking her lips and smelling of arousal? For him? He was dreaming, surely.

A loud screeching sound in a nearby tree made them both jump and the moment was broken. Isaac looked up to see an unnaturally huge crow cawing at them from the branch of a nearby tree. He hastily scrambled backwards, freeing Allison. She was blushing furiously as she picked her ring daggers up out of the leaves.

"Uh," Isaac said, standing awkwardly as he watched her brushing leaves and dirt from her clothes. "Do we want to…I don't know…talk about, uh….that?"

"Nope," Allison said curtly, refusing to meet his eyes. "Nope. You win. You can take me. Point proven."

"That's not what I meant," he replied, following her as she made her way back the way they came. Apparently, they were done tracking whatever was out here in the forest.

"I know what you _meant_," she said without turning around. "And I still don't want to talk about it."

Isaac clenched his jaw in frustration. He had resolved to not be pushy. He didn't want to lose whatever it was that the two of them had built. It meant too much to him. But he wasn't sure what it meant to _her_ and it was driving him nuts. She had constructed walls around her heart to protect herself from everyone and he had no idea how to scale them.

"Where are we going?" he asked instead, diverting the topic.

"Back to the car," she said over her shoulder. "Call Scott. I think he'll want to know what we found out here."

Isaac pulled his phone out of his pocket, wondering if she'd realized the double meaning of her words. Because if she had, she would have realized that Scott probably did not want to know what they'd found out here this afternoon.

He just hoped the scent of their arousal wore off before they came face-to-face with their Alpha.

…_to be continued…_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: I am so sorry this Chapter took me so long. This week wore me out. New job takes place directly before the time when I usually write. It's taking a little adjusting. Please be patient with me over the next few weeks as I get the hang of working, mothering, and writing, lol.

I really hope you guys liked this one. Things are starting to heat up. I promise there are some resolutions in the near future! Please hang on for that. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I love to hear what you guys have to say so please keep them coming.

Special shout-out to Isaac Fan, who always reviews but doesn't log in. There are lots of things I'd like to reply to you about in your reviews but I can't! lol.

Luca


	14. Chapter 7b

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Seven

"Show Me How"

* * *

…_continued…_

"So the bodies were the same?" Scott asked, watching his best friend pacing back and forth.

Stiles glared at him, pausing in the middle of his bedroom. "What? No. Oh my god, were you listening to anything I just said? _This_ body was a guy. The first body was a _woman_. I'm failing to see how they're the same to you."

Scott, who was sitting in the computer chair, groaned and closed his eyes. "Okay, not the bodies. The wounds. The wounds were the same."

Stiles threw his hands up in the air and continued his pacing. "Yes. _Thank_ you. The bodies were _different_ but the wounds were the same. Big hole in the middle of the body that went all the way through. No blood. No fluids. And this guy was just as shriveled up as the woman was. It was really gross and _really_ weird."

Lydia was watching this unfold from Stiles' bed. She'd propped his pillow up against his headboard and made herself comfortable, curling her legs up underneath her. She hadn't really moved since Scott had come in, asking for the details about the body they'd found. She really had nothing to add. Stiles had done the actual investigating while she'd dozed in the Jeep. She could give him no other pertinent details.

She kind of felt like dozing right now, despite the boys' loud conversation over the state of decomposing corpses. The adrenaline of finding the body had long since worn off and now she was exhausted. Between the sandwich that she'd had, which was way more amazing than she intended let Stiles know, and the cozy bed she was nestled in, she was surprised she wasn't already asleep. If it weren't for the promise that Stiles had made to tell her about this vision with his mother, she might not have fought it so hard.

But as she watched him pace and take his frustration out on his best friend, she knew that she couldn't back down. She had to make him tell her. He was going to break. He was going to end up with another panic attack and she couldn't guarantee that she'd be around to pull him out of the next one. She could see it in the tremor of his hands, hear it in the vibrato of his voice. Stiles was trying to hold in too much. He was trying to shoulder too many burdens.

And Lydia needed him, whether she'd ever admit it out loud or not. She needed him whole and healthy. It had taken her a long time to come to that realization and she wasn't comfortable with it yet. But the friendship she had with this goofy, warm, lovable idiot was the most important relationship in her life right now. She loved her parents and Allison was her _best_ friend. But Stiles had somehow become her center. He grounded her. And if something were to happen to him, she would have no idea how to orient herself.

Tether.

The word suddenly made so much more sense to her.

Scott frowned when his phone rang. He stood and pulled the device out of his pocket, walking out into the hallway to take the call.

Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets and plopped himself on the foot of his bed. He still hadn't looked at her. Not since his revelation. She didn't know why he was so nervous. Surely he wasn't worried about what her reaction would be. She had also seen someone who wasn't alive. She definitely understood how that felt. Which led her to believe it was something else bothering him, something else holding him back.

Stiles turned toward her, making eye contact for the first time since Scott had shown up. "You doing okay over there?" he asked.

Lydia shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I mean, you know. You just look a little tired," he continued, reaching up with one hand to rub the back of his neck.

Lydia rolled her shoulders a little. She really _was_ tired. "Stiles, I said I'm fine."

"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing the way that her legs were tucked beneath her. "I mean, you can pull the blanket up if you want."

"Stiles!" she said, throwing her arms out. "I said I was fine, okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. Sorry," he said, holding his hands up in his defense.

They could hear Scott pacing in the hallway, talking heatedly to whoever was on the phone. Lydia wasn't sure if Stiles could hear what was being said but she knew that she couldn't.

"It's just that you've had two wailing incidents pretty close together," Stiles said, unable to drop the conversation. "And I worry about how it affects you, okay?"

Lydia furrowed her brow. "Affects me? What do you mean?"

Stiles shrugged. "You know. I mean, usually you get all twitchy for a couple of days. You either eat a ton or don't eat at all. Most of the time it seems like you can't focus. I'm just concerned about how wailing two times this close together will, I don't know, magnify things? I mean, I don't know that it will but I'm just kind of worried about it, I guess."

"You noticed all of that?" she asked, crossing her arms and staring at him, thoughtfully. "I mean, not even Allison seems to notice the side effects sometimes."

Stiles laughed. "Well, no offense to Allison or anything but she's not, you know…." Stiles slowed his sentence down and Lydia watched as he started to blush. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "She's in love with Isaac these days. Not _completely_ observant of the world around her."

Just then, Scott burst back into the room. "Sorry guys, I gotta go. I need to beat some _sense_ into my stupid _goddamned_ beta."

Stiles jumped up from the foot of the bed. "Whoa buddy. What's going on? What happened?"

Scott paced from the door to the window before stalking over to the computer chair to grab his motorcycle helmet off the floor. "You want to know what Isaac and Allison were up to this afternoon?"

"Uh, probably not," Stiles replied with a grimace, taking a step back from his friend. Lydia had to bite her lip at his reaction to keep herself from laughing, despite the tense energy in the room.

Scott stopped and whirled around and for the first time Lydia saw his eyes flash red. She'd known he was the Alpha, intellectually, but she'd never really seen him transform. She was suddenly reminded that this was a huge responsibility for a teenage boy and she wondered if he'd be able to hold it together.

"They were out in the woods tracking the _murderer_!" Scott shouted, throwing his hands up. "They thought it was a _freaking_ good idea to be out there, all alone, and following the thing's goddamned tracks. I swear to god, I'm going to kill them_ both_."

Stiles took a few steps forward, waving his hands in front of him to get Scott's attention. "Hey, hey. Calm down, okay? You don't really want to kill them."

"The _hell_ I don't!"

"Scott!" Stiles yelled. The pacing Alpha werewolf stopped and growled at him, his fangs menacing in the enclosed space. Lydia felt her stomach clench in something akin to fear. She didn't have to be a wolf to understand that warning. She kind of felt like hiding her face behind her hands while they sorted this out but she couldn't even move.

Stiles grabbed his friend's upper arms and shook him a little. "You have to hold it together man. Answer me this. Did they get hurt?"

Scott clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring. "No," he said. His fangs had retracted but his eyes still red.

Stiles let go of him but didn't step back. "Are you pissed because they _could have_ gotten hurt or is it because they were out there without you?"

Scott closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they'd shifted back to their usual shade of chocolate brown. "I don't know. Can it be both?"

"Okay. So you have the right to be pissed. They were stupid, but then again we_ are_ talking about Isaac here. Not the best track record when it comes to making decisions," Stiles said. "But you don't really want to kill them. You love them. We need them. Remember? We're already short on werewolves? And I'm pretty sure Mr. Argent will end us _all_ if you take out his daughter. Am I right?"

"Ugh!" Scott groaned and threw his hands up. "When the hell did you become the voice of reason?"

Stiles shrugged but before he could reply, Scott turned to Lydia, pointing a finger. "You. It's you. I totally blame you. Somehow, you've rubbed off on him and made him all logical."

Lydia smirked and looked down at her hand, pretending to be interested in her nails and hoping her receding fear wasn't too obvious. "Oh no. Nope. I am _so_ not getting pulled into your bromance squabbling. You two can figure this one out all on your own."

"Yeah, and she's totally not rubbing off on me. I still don't care about handbags and little dogs," Stiles replied, waving toward her distractedly. "Just go over there and talk to them," Stiles said. He grabbed Scott's motorcycle jacket off the back of the computer chair and tossed it to the werewolf. "But calm down about it. And don't go killing anyone tearing around on your bike. Please?"

Scott caught his jacket and headed out into the hallway. "I'll be fine."

"I'm serious, Scott. You drive like a crazy person when you're mad. Be careful, okay man?"

"Yes, Dad," he replied as he left.

Stiles leaned out of his doorway, shouting down the stairwell. "Don't make me take your keys young man!"

Lydia couldn't help the smirk on her face as he came back in the room, shutting the door behind him.

"You're good at that, you know," she said.

"What?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder. "Shutting doors? What can I say, it's my puny human super power."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "No, talking Scott of the ledge."

"Oh that?" he said. "Nah, that wasn't a ledge. He wasn't even that mad."

"Are you kidding?" Lydia said, sitting up a little straighter. "He was half-transformed."

Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, but not because he was mad. He was worried. Whenever he's worried he tries to pass it off like he's pissed. But usually he's not."

"How could you tell the difference?"

"He's my best friend," Stiles replied. He turned and kicked his shoes off, leaving them by his closet door. "What kind of best friend would I be if I couldn't tell the difference?"

Lydia bit her lip and watched as he shrugged out of his long-sleeved flannel shirt and left it draped over the back of his computer chair. She suddenly realized that she was cold and took his advice, pulling his comforter out from underneath her and bringing it up over her lap.

"If you two are such good friends, does he know about the vision you had?" she asked. She had to do it. If she'd left it up to him to resume their conversation, she was pretty sure it wouldn't happen, regardless of whether or not he'd promised.

He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. He turned away from her and took a seat on the floor, scooting backwards until he was leaning against the side of his bed. His head and shoulders were next to her knees but she couldn't see his face as he spoke, which she figured he'd done on purpose.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, he knows."

"Does he have any opinions on it?"

Stiles laughed a little but there was no humor in it. "I don't know. Maybe. But he hasn't shared them with me. He…ugh. He doesn't want me to get my hopes up. I'm pretty sure he thinks I imagined it."

Lydia watched as he drew his knees up and rested his elbows on them.

"You know," he said softly. "I don't talk about her much, my mom. Not even to Scott. Hell, not even to my dad. And it's really stupid, I know that. But ever since I was a kid it's just like, I don't know. Like if I didn't talk about her then I could just keep her all to myself. I guess it's selfish maybe. I didn't want to share her. But I mean I guess my dad felt the same way because he doesn't talk about her either."

He was quiet for a moment.

"It's not stupid," Lydia said. She had the urge to reach out and touch him, reassure him. But she didn't know how.

"Yeah, it is. I mean, I _know_ it is. Talking about her doesn't mean I'll lose those memories that I have. I know that it doesn't," he said. He paused to swipe the back of his hand across his eyes. "And now? God, I don't even know. I swear, Lydia, she was right there. I could have touched her again. Hugged her or something. And she was telling me something so important. I know she was. And now it's freaking lost to the abyss that is my stupid ADHD brain."

It was more than she could take. Lydia scooted down the bed a little until his head was even with her shoulders. She pulled the pillow down with her and got comfortable. And then she did the only thing she could think of. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair.

He sighed and scooted down a bit, letting his head fall back on the bed. She pulled her hand away, unsure.

"No, don't stop," he said with his eyes still closed. "That felt really good."

So she reached back out and pushed her fingers through his hair again, letting her nails scrape across his scalp a little. His hair was a lot softer than she'd suspected it would be. She found that it felt good to her too, to be touching him like this. To be offering some sort of support, some small bit of comfort. She watched as another set of tears squeezed from beneath his eyelids and trailed down toward his ears. Without thinking about it, she reached forward with her thumb and wiped them away. He took a deep, shaking breath and smiled a little.

"I'm a baby, aren't I?" he asked. "I mean, I feel like I'm always crying around you these days. What is _with_ that?"

"You should never be afraid to let people see you cry," she said, remembering the time when he'd said those same words to her. She felt a smile playing on her lips. "I think you're beautiful when you cry."

He cracked a grin, a genuine smile, and opened his eyes, looking at her upside down. "Oh my god, I really said that once, didn't I?"

"Yup," she said. "It sounds a little more corny the other way around though, doesn't it?"

He laughed and lifted his head. He turned around a little, regarding her thoughtfully. He leaned on the edge of the bed and pulled his comforter up around her shoulders, tucking her in. "You look really tired."

She was about to protest but couldn't because she was overcome by a long yawn.

"Look," he said. "You just take a nap. I'm gonna sit here and read these stupid pages."

Lydia sighed and watched him grab the closest stack of papers. He settled back down with his back to her again. She slid her hand out from under the covers, finding his hair again, and was pleased when his shoulders seemed to relax at her touch.

"Stiles?" she said sleepily, letting her eyes drift closed even as her fingers continued to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Hmm?" he responded.

"We're going to figure this thing out," she said softly. "About your mom. We're going to find her, okay?"

She heard him sigh, heard the shift of the papers in his hands. "Thanks, Lydia."

"Hmmhmm," was the last thing she remembered saying as she started to doze off.

* * *

"What do you mean, we're leaving?" one of them said as he followed closely behind the first one. They looked nearly identical, though if he used senses other than his eyes, he found it was quite easy to tell them apart.

The first one turned around to face his brother. "I mean we're_ leaving_! Leaving Beacon Hills. There's nothing here for us anymore. We should just move on."

In his bird form, he flitted from tree to tree, watching these hybrid intruders as they made their way through his forest. There had been far too many people in his forest today. Young humans, more investigating humans, the interesting man, and now several of these wolf-human hybrids. He followed this pair along as they argued, hoping that they wouldn't bother the surrounding plants and animals. He didn't have the strength to take on two of these hybrids together. He would have to feed several more times before he would have the strength for that. But he trailed after them anyway, keeping track of where they were going and what damage they might be leaving in their wake.

"You mean there isn't anything here for _you_," said the second one. He crossed his arms and frowned at his brother. "Because I can count a number of things that _I_ have to stay here for."

The first brother turned away and scoffed. "Yeah, whatever. Like what?"

The second brother held up his hand, ticking off reasons on his fingers. "Well, there's Danny. There's the chance to be normal for once and get an education. There's the invitation to Scott's pack."

"Ha, Danny!" the first brother said, turning back to face the second. "Right. I forgot. You're in _love._ And how do you think it's gonna go when you have to tell him you live in an abandoned warehouse?"

"Well we wouldn't have to if we joined the Beacon Hills pack," the second brother said, throwing his arms out wide.

"I didn't realize that an invitation to the pack also came with room and board," the first brother said with an eye roll.

"Look, Aiden, what is this really about?" the second brother said, crossing his arms again. "It's Lydia, isn't it?"

Aiden scoffed. "Right. Like I would let a _human_ get under my skin."

"We both know she's not human," his brother said. "And we both know that she _did_ get under your skin. Otherwise you wouldn't be so determined to leave."

Aiden growled. "So what? So what if I _do_ care?"

"Then we should stay," his brother said, stepping closer. "She's a reason to stay."

"You don't get it," Aiden said with a sigh. "She picked the useless one, batboy or whatever his name is. She doesn't want me. She wants_ him_."

"Stilinski?"

Aiden rolled his eyes. "Oh god, you even know their _names_? Yes, Stilinski."

"Hey, listen to me for a minute, okay?"

Aiden sighed. "What, Ethan? What could you possibly say to change my mind?"

Ethan looked away for a moment, considering his next words. "Look, we can't kill him. Scott would rip us limb from limb. But if you want Lydia back, there are other ways. Less messy ways of getting what you want."

Aiden growled again, his eyes flashing in the evening light. He turned and punched a nearby tree, showering himself in pine needles as they were shaken from their branches. "Are you sure we can't just kill him?"

"I'm sure," Ethan answered.

"I don't know, okay?" Aiden said, running both his hands through his hair.

"Can we at least stay until you do?"

The answer wasn't audible, though. From above them, he saw them both tense and turn their heads in the same direction at the same time.

"You smell that?" Aiden asked his brother.

"Yeah," Ethan answered. "Look, I don't want a confrontation. Let's just go."

With that, the hybrids left his forest in the opposite direction from whatever they had smelled. But he was curious. What could possibly make these two wolf-humans decide to leave? He wasn't sad to see them go, especially after the one had damaged his pine tree, but he was curious anyway.

He didn't have to fly very far to find the cause, though it truly confused him.

It was a human female and another of the hybrids. The two brothers should have easily had the strength to overwhelm these two. And yet they'd left instead. It hadn't seemed like fear. So what was it?

He took a moment to observe the ones in front of him. The girl was completely human and yet she was following tracks in the forest in the same way that a seasoned hunter might. His keen bird eyesight took in the prints that she was following and realized that the girl was tracking him. Those were _his_ prints in the leaves on the forest floor.

They were tracking him? Were they related to the humans investigating near his second meal? He wasn't sure. He was discovering more and more that he didn't understand the humans of this era. They were all very complicated and continued to behave in ways he couldn't explain.

But when the hybrid rolled the human over his back and pinned her to the ground, he could smell their intent even from the distance of the forest canopy. This was behavior that he understood. They were about to mate. He could smell it. He didn't want humans and hybrids mating in his forest. He didn't want them in his forest at all. Surely they could find somewhere else to do this thing.

So he called out, shrilly, with his bird's voice, hoping to startle them enough to make them leave. It seemed to work.

He didn't bother to follow them to the edge of the forest. Instead, he flew back to the place that made his heart heavy. Seeing two beings with such intense feelings for one another had reminded him of his beloved.

Her flowers still bloomed where his tears had fallen. He shifted from his bird form to his human form and laid across her stump, across her lifeless body, and sobbed. How he would have loved to have children with his beloved. How he would have loved to live in this forest with her, watching over their home and keeping the balance of nature.

But she was no more. His heart filled with sorrow and he screamed into the air.

And as his tears fell to the ground, more flowers bloomed.

A field full of flowers. A field full of sorrow.

"_Don't wanna let you down but I am hell bound. Though this is all for you. Don't wanna hide the truth."_

_ "Demons" Imagine Dragons_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Does anyone else's heart hurt? This chapter hurt my heart. Please let me know what you think.


	15. Chapter 8a

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Eight

"Tired and Bloody"

* * *

"_Me, I'm used to being tired and bloody. But you believed that I could be somebody."_

_Hedley "I Do (Want to Love You)"_

"He's going to kill me. I'm gonna die," Isaac said as he paced back and forth in the McCall's living room. He ran his hands through his hair nervously, looking back and forth from Allison to the window and back again. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Today is the day I die. I could hear it in his voice. He's coming here to kill me."

Allison frowned and crossed her arms. She was sitting on the edge of the couch, watching his pacing and listening to his unusually anxious rambling, hoping that he wasn't being serious. But Isaac wasn't generally known for over-reacting. Not like this. "Stop being so dramatic. You sound likes Stiles. Besides, you don't really believe that," she said.

"I don't?" he asked, pausing for a second to face her. His eyes were a little wider than she was used to seeing. "And why is that?"

"Because," she answered, raising an eyebrow. "If you really thought he was going to kill you, you'd be long gone right now. Not sitting here waiting for it to happen."

Isaac rolled his eyes and continued his pacing, shooting her a sarcastic smile. "Oh right. Well, maybe my survival instincts just suck. Ever thought about that?"

Allison brought a finger up to her lips, tapping them and pretending to ponder the thought. "Um, actually. You might have a point there."

He glared at her disbelievingly, throwing his hands up with a growl. Allison couldn't help but grin.

The roar of Scott's motorcycle pulling into the driveway broke her amusement off pretty abruptly and she could feel her insides squirming. She was putting on a brave face for Isaac, trying to make light of the situation. But secretly she was a little worried that he was right. Scott might just be coming in here to kill him. The boundaries of his transition to Alpha status hadn't been pushed since it had happened and she got the feeling that this situation was definitely pushing boundaries.

The front door burst open and Isaac took a couple of steps backwards toward Allison. She realized immediately that he was positioning himself between her and the Alpha. And while she was a little annoyed that he thought she needed to be protected, she was also a little relieved. She didn't want to have to protect herself against Scott unless it was absolutely necessary and she was hoping that this was not going to be one of those times.

Scott stepped into the room and pulled the motorcycle helmet off his head, revealing dark red eyes and a snarling set of fangs. He wasn't fully transformed but he wasn't far from it either. He only had eyes for Isaac and Allison got the feeling that he only peripherally recognized that she was even there.

Isaac put his hands up in front of him, holding them out at arms-length as Scott slowly approached. "Look man, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry," he rambled. "We didn't think. We just wanted to be useful, okay? I didn't think about what would happen if we actually found the thing. It was stupid and I'm sorry. I swear."

Allison covered her mouth with her hands to hold back a startled scream as Scott jumped forward with his unnatural speed and slammed Isaac down backwards on the coffee table. The table didn't take it well, the legs collapsing with a crash under the weight of two teenage werewolves.

"What the _hell_ made you think that was okay?" Scott shouted into the face of his friend. "What part of 'don't ever let her get hurt' did you _not_ _remember_?"

Isaac, pinned by his throat, couldn't answer because he couldn't draw a breath. He scratched feebly at the forearms of his Alpha, his eyes begging to be let go so he could breathe. His legs started kicking involuntarily as his lungs pleaded for air.

"Scott!" Allison screamed as she leapt up from the couch. "I'm not hurt. He didn't let me get hurt. Don't do this. Don't hurt him!"

She had to swallow down her fear as he turned his werewolf eyes on her. His mouth was back to normal, though scowling, for which she was eternally thankful. She still didn't attempt to approach him, staying close to the couch instead and fighting the urge to pull the ring daggers from their sheath at the small of her back. "Look, it might have been Isaac's idea to follow the scent but it was _my_ idea to do it today. It's _my_ fault that we didn't wait to tell you first. Please, let him go, okay? Please?"

Scott regarded her for a moment before looking back to Isaac. He let go of his beta's throat, one claw at a time, leaving five bloody scratches in his wake. The moment Isaac could breathe, he gasped audibly, all the blood draining from his face as circulation was restored. He'd only been seconds away from passing out.

Scott backed away from them both and stormed off to the kitchen. Allison wasn't sure whether or not she should follow him but was saved the opportunity to decide when the Alpha werewolf came back a moment later, damp dishcloth in hand.

"Here," he said, reaching his free hand down to Isaac. He pulled the beta to his feet and handed him the cloth. "Look, I didn't mean to do that. Just…here. Take this and go upstairs. I really need to cool off," he said.

Isaac took the cloth and nodded. "Yeah, okay man," he choked out, the bones and muscles of his throat still rearranging themselves. "I mean, I am really sorry. I just…" He trailed off as Scott fixed him with a look. Without another word, he turned and followed orders, heading upstairs before he ended up with something worse than a few claw indentations.

Scott continued to stand in the doorway of the living room with his back to her. Allison wasn't sure what to say, or if she should even say _anything_. She wrapped her arms around her middle and sat back down on the couch, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart now that she was sure no one was going to get hurt. Or well, any _more _hurt.

After a few minutes, the silence was more than she could stand. She could usually do silence but this particular one was still charged with tension and she didn't like it.

"Is that an Alpha thing?" she asked, clearing her throat a little. She wasn't sure why she was so hoarse all of a sudden.

Scott took a deep breath and turned around, surveying the destruction of the coffee table. He sighed, his shoulders dropping, and took a seat in the chair across from her. "I don't know. Which part?" he asked with a half smirk. He didn't look like he thought any of this was funny though.

"The half-transformed thing. All eyes, fangs, and claws," she said. She scooted back into the couch a little more, getting comfortable now that he was sitting.

Scott frowned. "What? No, not really. I mean, you've seen me and Isaac like that before."

"Well, yeah," she said. "But it seems like you have more control over it now. Like before it was just reactionary but now it seems like you can use it when you want to. I don't know." She paused and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Am I totally off base?"

Scott seemed to think about it for a moment. "Actually, you might be on to something. I should probably test that sometime. But not right now. I'm still…I don't know. I don't know _what_ I am right now."

"Can I ask you something?"

Scott nodded. "Sure."

Allison bit her lip for a second before starting. "What was that whole 'don't let her get hurt' thing about?"

Scott actually looked a little embarrassed as he sat back in his seat. He closed his eyes and banged his head backwards on the top cushion of the chair a few times. "Oh god. You might kill me if I answer that."

"Is it that bad?"

He gulped and opened his eyes, grinning at her sheepishly. "Well, _you_ might think so. You don't have your daggers on you, do you?"

Allison didn't answer, raising an eyebrow instead and waiting for him to elaborate.

"Okay, look," he said. "I talked to Isaac earlier this week and I _might_ have told him that I was okay with the two of you….you know…doing whatever it is you're doing together….as long as he doesn't hurt you. Or let you get hurt. So…yeah. That might have happened."

Allison felt her heart swell. He still loved her. Hell, she still loved him too but it had morphed into something so different than the infatuation that they'd started with. And now, looking at him over the broken remnants of the table in his living room, knowing that he'd half-strangled his friend for thinking he'd let her be somewhere dangerous, she _knew_ that he still loved her. She didn't know if his love had changed the way that hers had but she knew it was there. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to be safe. And as much as it made her feel good it also made her feel guilty. She wanted that for him too. She didn't want to be the only one moving on, but she wasn't sure how to tell him that.

While she was feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside, she made sure to keep her face a mask. She didn't want him to think he could get away with playing her father's role.

"You know I don't need protecting, right?" she said, fighting to keep her face straight.

"I know, I know," Scott said. "But, mostly I didn't mean from physical danger. I just…you know I didn't want him to…god, I don't know. Break your heart or anything."

Allison opened her mouth to say something but he didn't let her get the chance.

"But here's the thing," he said. He slid forward in his seat, his expression a little more serious. "The same thing applies to him. He's my friend, okay? He's more than a friend now, more like a brother. If he's a rebound for you or whatever, please don't string him along. I don't want him hurt either."

She felt the tension in her shoulders loosen some. She hadn't realized how tense she had been until that moment. "He's not a rebound."

"Are you guys, like together?" he asked and then instantly blushed and put up his hands, waving off her answer. "Nope, no. Sorry. That's probably not any of my business."

Allison laughed a little and unwrapped her arms from her stomach, looking down at her hands. "You know, I don't know what we are. We've kind of talked about it, but I still don't really know. I just…well. I wanted to make sure that we, me and you, were okay first."

Scott stood up and moved over to sit beside her on the couch. He took one of her hands in his and waited to talk until she looked up at him.

"Allison, it sucks. Not being with you has sucked for a long time. My heart used to hurt because I wasn't with you. Now it kind of just hurts because you aren't happy. It's a lot more complicated than that in my head and you know I'm not so good with words," he said with a smirk. "But I'm okay. And you moving on is probably gonna help me move on too."

Allison bit her lip again, hating that she tended to do that so much. "Are you sure?"

He sighed and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "And you know, if anyone deserves a little good in his life, it's Isaac. That kid has had it way worse than most of us."

"You know, speaking of that," she started. "You should really go make it up to him. You know, about the claws and everything."

Scott let go of her and brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes. "Ugh, I know. I didn't mean to get that mad. I don't want to be like Derek, you know, throwing people around all the time. But it was, I don't know, instinctual? Like the wolf wanted to make sure that the beta knew his place. Sometimes, it's hard to separate that out."

"It'll take some getting used to, I imagine," Allison said, reaching up to rub his shoulder.

"Yeah, but that's no excuse," he said. "I mean, Isaac's dad used to get mad like that and then hit him. And I don't want to be that guy."

"You aren't."

Scott shook his head. "I don't know. I'm gonna go up and talk to Isaac about it. Help him clean up a bit. You want to stay around?"

Allison shrugged. "No, I should probably go," she said, standing up. "You guys should do your werewolf stuff, clear the air and all. I definitely don't want to be here when your mom comes home and sees what you did to her table."

"Oh shit," Scott said, his eyes going back to the rubble in the middle of the floor. "God, I'm so dead."

Allison laughed. The big bad Alpha, afraid of his human mother. "Look, would it be weird if I asked you to have Isaac call me later?"

Scott rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, tearing his eyes away from the broken table. "Yeah, a little. But don't worry about it," he said, flashing her a brilliant smile.

She gave him a hug and, at the last second, a peck on the cheek before heading out to her car.

Scott had grown up so much since they'd first met. They all had really. They hadn't had a choice. But he had a maturity about him now that defied what they'd been through. The darkness that surrounded the rest of them didn't seem to touch him.

She wondered where he'd found that strength, that inner peace, and wished that she could borrow a little.

* * *

The ice cream was delicious. He was fairly certain he was dreaming but he didn't care because it was chocolate ice cream and it was his favorite and it was fantastic. But also, it was weird because there were these giant ants following behind him like puppies, waiting for him to drop some. And because it was tasty dream ice cream, for some reason he _did_ keep dropping some but his cone didn't get any smaller.

"Scott?"

Did those ants just call his name? He looked over his shoulder but they were all busy licking up the ice cream from the sidewalk. Did ants have tongues? These ones did. But nah, they couldn't talk. That would just be silly. He turned back around and went to take another bite of his ice cream.

Strawberry? Ugh, no! His ice cream had turned to strawberry. He hated strawberries. Freaking dream ice cream. He sighed and threw it to the ants, watching as it changed back to chocolate in mid-air. No! Now he couldn't get it back. Bah! Stupid dream.

"Scott, wake up."

Scott groaned and rubbed his eyes, opening them just enough to see his mother standing in his doorway. She was holding her robe closed with one hand and had a cup of coffee in the other. "Mom?"

"Yes, now would you please wake up? I need you to come downstairs," she said, taking a few steps into the room. "You have visitors."

Scott blinked a couple of times, sitting up on his elbows to glance at the clock. Just a little after five in the morning. "Oh my god. Why can't people let me _sleep_ this week?" he groaned, flopping back on the bed. "Why are you even awake?"

Melissa shrugged. "Still getting used to not working night shift. I couldn't sleep. Which turns out to be a lucky thing since you have _visitors_ downstairs, remember? Werewolf visitors. Did I mention that part?"

That got his attention. He sat up frowning and scenting the air. There were definitely two werewolves downstairs, sitting in the living room. Now that he was awake enough to pay attention, he realized their scent should have been obvious. And these were not just any wolves. No, these were wolves he recognized.

Scott hopped from the bed and dodged past his mother, careful not to make her spill her coffee. He took the stairs two at a time, not worried about the fact that he was only dressed in a t-shirt and his boxers. He came sliding into the living room doorway with a grin on his face.

"Derek!"

The Hale in question stood with a raised eyebrow, taking in the younger wolf's attire and expression.

Scott took the last few steps across the room. Derek held his hand out to shake but Scott just knocked it aside, pulling him into a hug instead. The older wolf tensed for a second before relaxing and patting Scott on the back a little awkwardly.

"What are you doing here, man?" Scott asked, still grinning, as he took a seat in the chair across from the couch.

"I got Stiles' voicemail about the bodies," Derek answered, sitting back down in the space he'd previously occupied. "All nine of them."

"Wait, nine? There were only two."

Derek shook his head. "No, nine voicemails, not bodies."

Scott rolled his eyes. "God, Stiles. He left _nine_ voicemails?"

"Yup."

"Why didn't you just answer?"

Derek smirked. "Because it was _Stiles_."

Scott couldn't help laughing and looking over at the other werewolf on the couch.

"I don't get a hug?" Cora asked. She had her arms crossed and her feet propped up on the remnants of the coffee table. Her dark brown hair was pulled back from her face, revealing a striking resemblance to her brother. With the two of them sitting next to each other like this, it would have been impossible not to know they were siblings.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Did you _want_ a hug?"

She scoffed. "Uh, no."

"Well then that's why you don't _get_ a hug," he said, sitting back. He could see Derek fighting to keep a straight face.

"Oh what, now you're a mind reader too?" she challenged.

"I could be," Scott replied.

Cora rolled her gray-green eyes. "Yeah right. Being an Alpha does _not_ make you psychic."

"How would you know?" he asked with a grin. "You've never been an Alpha."

Derek threw his left arm out and restrained his sister just as she was about to jump up from the couch. Her glare looked fairly murderous but Scott knew first hand that Cora's bark was usually worse than her bite. She sat back down slowly but Scott could hear her teeth grinding from across the room.

Derek let her go once he was sure she was going to stay put, gesturing toward the broken table instead. "What happened here?"

"Unsupervised teenage werewolves, that's what," Melissa answered, coming into the living room holding two cups of coffee. She handed one of them to Derek, who thanked her, before skirting around the broken table and sitting on the love seat.

Scott sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, me and Isaac broke the table. Mom, I told you I'd pay for that with my next check."

Melissa pursed her lips. "Where are you going to find me another table from your grandmother in Mexico? Hmm?" she asked.

Scott shrugged. "Craig's list?"

Cora snorted and Scott had to fight to keep his face serious. Melissa just rolled her eyes and sighed.

"So, where have you guys been?" Scott asked, changing the subject before his mother got too mad again. When she'd seen the table last night, he had seriously feared for his life. "We had all kind of figured we wouldn't see you again."

Derek took a long drink of his coffee before answering. "It's kind of a long story," he started.

"And not nearly as important as where they are now," his mother interjected. Derek looked up at her, his expression confused.

Scott was confused too. "What? What does that mean? Where are you guys now?"

Cora shrugged and answered. "At the motel off the highway. I don't get the problem with that."

Scott groaned and brought his hands up to rub his face. That was the same motel that his father was staying in. "Guys, you remember the trouble we had with Agent McCall before you left?"

He could see Derek nod as he peeked through his fingers.

"Yeah, well. He never left. He's staying at the same motel."

"I still don't see what the problem is," Cora said, gesturing with her hands. "He doesn't know who we are or what we are, right?"

"Look, I just don't want anyone that I care about being close to him. I'm kind of just avoiding him at all costs right now. Pulling a Stiles. Maybe if I ignore him, he'll just go away."

"You care about us?" Cora asked, a little surprised.

"Well, I care about Derek. And you guys are kind of a packaged deal right now so..."

"So what do you want us to do about it?" Derek asked, pulling Scott's attention away from his sister.

Scott frowned as he thought about it. First of all, it felt really weird for Derek to defer to him. At least, not without demands and leverage being involved. Derek wasn't an Alpha any more, but then he hadn't been an Alpha when they'd first met, either. The newfound respect felt nice. But it also felt heavy because he knew there was a lot of responsibility to go with that sort of trust.

Scott opened his mouth to answer and then stopped as he caught a glimpse of his mother out of the corner of his eye. Right. He might be the Alpha but he was supposed to ask her permission for stuff when he had the time to.

"One sec, Derek," he said, standing. "Mom, can I talk to you in the kitchen?" he asked. She nodded and they left the room. He knew very well that the two werewolves would be able to hear everything that was being said. Knowing that, he still felt like his mother would rather have this conversation without an audience.

"You have that look like you want to ask for something you know you can't have," Melissa said before Scott could even open his mouth. "Spill it."

"Could I ask them to stay here?" Scott blurted out quickly. He was trying to get her approval before Derek could come in and protest. "I want them safe and I want them close."

Melissa sighed and leaned against the counter. Scott got the distinct impression that she had known what he was going to ask. Suddenly, Cora's psychic jab didn't seem so far-fetched. "Where are we going to put them, Scott? What do you think I'm running here? A supernatural boarding house?"

"Mrs. McCall," Derek said as he came around the corner. "I really don't want us to be a burden. Please. We'll be fine at the motel. Really."

"Actually, I'm kind of with Scott on this one, as much as I hate to admit it," she said with a sigh. "You don't know my ex. He can be a sneaky bastard."

Scott grinned, feeling like this argument was all but won. "Yeah, the guy is messed up. All he has to do is see your car in our driveway one time and recognize it from the motel and then he's all running your tags, checking your background, asking all kinds of questions. He's a real douche."

"Excuse me? Language?" his mother said, smacking him on the arm. "You do not call your father that."

"But you just called him a—"

Melissa put her hand up. "It doesn't matter what I said. I can call him whatever I want. I was married to the bastard, remember," she said with a smirk. "But you have to show him more respect than that, got it?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and nodded instead.

"Look, we'll figure out logistics later. Between Scott's room, Isaac's, the futon in the office and the couch, we'll have enough room for everyone at least for a little while. I mean, do you guys know how long you'll be in town?" Melissa asked. She took another drink of her coffee.

Derek shrugged. "I guess that depends."

"On what?" Scott asked. He walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a mug for himself. If he was going to be up this early he really needed caffeine too.

Derek frowned and crossed his arms. "It depends on how many more bodies there are."

…_to be continued…_

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay here folks. It's been a busy week for me. I hope this chapter makes up for it. Return of some Hales! They couldn't stay gone forever, right? In reality, Season 3b isn't likely to have Cora since the actress who played her had the pilot for Reign picked up on the CW. I imagine Derek will be back but without her, some Jackson-like exit story ready and waiting. While I'm happy for her actress, I'm sad for the character because I would have liked more time to get to know Cora and her backstory. Since that's unlikely in the series, I thought I'd play with it here. I hope you guys like my take on her. And Derek. I've never written his character either so please feel free to let me know if I go astray.

As always, thank you so much for the reviews! You guys make magic for me every time you leave one. Seriously, I have the best readers in the fandom, I swear.


	16. Chapter 8b

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Eight

"Tired and Bloody"

* * *

…_continued…_

Stiles was awake before his phone started ringing. In fact, he'd been awake for a while, laying in the semi-dark of his bedroom. It hadn't bothered him really. He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in longer than he could remember. He was kind of used to it at this point. But this night in particular had been especially easy on him. He hadn't needed to get up and pace, he hadn't needed to wiggle his feet or tap with his fingers. No, he'd been able to lay still on the floor, a cushion from the couch as a pillow and a discarded hoodie as a blanket.

He'd been perfectly content to just lay there and watch Lydia sleep.

It hadn't started out that way. The first time she'd fallen asleep, he'd still been sitting up trying to read through his print-outs. Her fingers had been running through the hair at the nape of his neck, somehow distracting and comforting at the same time, her thumb absently tracing circles on the sensitive skin there. He could tell when she'd fallen asleep because her fingers had stilled and her limp hand had nestled itself in the crook of his neck, her fingertips nudged under the edge of his shirt collar.

Once she was asleep, he'd been able to focus a little better on the papers in front of him and he went to work, careful not to move too much because he didn't want to wake her. At first, he'd worried that he wouldn't be able to sit that still. Lately, sitting in any one place for longer than a few minutes made his heart start racing, his palms sweaty, his chest tight. But not this time.

He didn't even notice the two hours go by as he sorted his papers between possible and impossible. The list of creatures he'd eliminated based on the evidence they had so far included things like selkies since they weren't close enough to the ocean, pucas since people were actually being _killed_, and wendigos since the bodies were being left behind. He felt pretty good about being able to rule a few things out but was frustrated by the fact that it still hadn't gotten them much closer in actually identifying whatever it was leaving bodies around.

_His bladder had finally gotten the better of him. He would have stayed there longer if he could have. He was comfortable and he really didn't want to bother Lydia. But the bottles of water he'd drank had betrayed him and he had to go._

"_Lydia?" he said quietly, reaching up to poke the back of her hand with one of his long fingers._

"_Nope," she responded, causing Stiles' brow to furrow. She tucked her fingers a little deeper into his shirt, causing his heart to start pounding. For a second he rethought having to go to the bathroom. But unfortunately his bladder was insistent. _

_He turned and looked over his shoulder to see her facing him but with her eyes still closed. "Lydia, wake up."_

"_Nope," she said again, snuggling into his pillow a little deeper. He absently wondered if it would smell like her after this._

_He couldn't wait any longer and he knew it, annoyed with himself and the need for hydration which had put him in this situation to begin with. Stiles rolled his eyes and leaned forward, standing and letting her hand drop over the side of the bed. He watched as her face scrunched up a little. She pulled her hands up to her eyes and rubbed them before squinting up at him._

"_Stiles?" she asked, seeming a little confused as to where she was. She frowned for a moment as she took in her surroundings._

"_The one and only," he answered with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a grin._

_She groaned and pushed herself up on her elbows. "And thank god for that," she said, smirking._

_Stiles shook his head and glanced at the clock again. It was still early evening but the sun was setting on the other side of the house from where his room was so it had started to gather a gloom. He moved over to his desk and flicked on the lamp there before turning back to her._

"_I need a bathroom break. Did you want anything while I'm up?" he asked, heading for the door._

_Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. "From the bathroom?" she asked, running her fingers through her sleep-tangled hair._

"_Oh my god, from the _kitchen_," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "Seriously. Unless you want a roll of toilet paper or yesterday's newspaper."_

"_Another one of those sandwiches would do," she said. She pushed herself up to sitting and slid back against the headboard. "And a bottle of water. Oh, and if you have something chocolate, that would be great."_

_Stiles stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "Oh, is that all Princess?" _

_Lydia tapped her lips with her finger. "And yesterday's newspaper, since you went there."_

_But by the time he'd returned with her requests and a plate of pizza rolls for himself, she was asleep again, curled up facing toward where he'd been sitting before. He sighed and left her food on his desk, settling back down in his previous spot. Just as he started back in on his sheets of paper, he felt her fingers tentatively reach out again, her hand finding its previous resting place. He grinned, thankful that she couldn't see him blush at the contact._

Stiles grabbed his ringing phone and darted out of his room quickly, so as not to wake her, shutting his door behind him. "Hello?" he said into it, realizing that he hadn't even looked to see who was calling.

"Hey Stiles," Scott said on the other line. "Sorry it's so early. Did I wake you up?"

"Are you kidding?" Stiles joked, leaning against the wall next to his door. "I'm never asleep. I haven't slept in weeks. What's up?"

"You think you can come by? I finally heard back from Derek."

Stiles blinked twice. "You? He called _you_? I'm the one who freaking had to call him a million times."

Scott laughed. "No, he didn't call. He's here. And Cora too. I'm thinking about skipping school today. What do you think?"

"Any reason to skip school is fine by me," he answered. "I so do _not_ want to turn in my English paper yet. Is everybody skipping or just us?"

"I already turned Isaac's alarm off so he can sleep in," Scott answered. "But I don't know about the girls."

"Uhhh," Stiles said. "Speaking of the girls. You'll never guess who slept in my bed last night."

There was a moment of silence as Scott processed this information. "Dude, seriously? You finally slept with Lydia?"

"What? No!" Stiles sputtered. "I mean, it's not for a lack of wanting to, believe me, but no. She just stayed over. She slept in my bed and I crashed on the floor. Well, crashed implies sleeping and I didn't sleep but yeah. That happened."

"And your dad didn't care?" Scott asked.

His dad. God, he hadn't even thought about his dad. Stiles must have slept at some point last night because he didn't remember his dad coming home at all. Suddenly, he dreaded finding out. "Uh, you know. That's a good question."

Scott chuckled on the other end.

"I'm just gonna go wake up Lydia and let her know what's going on," Stiles said quietly, creeping down the hallway to peek into his father's room. It was empty and the bed didn't look slept in. That was great news. Maybe his dad hadn't even come home last night and he wouldn't have to explain what Lydia was doing in his bed.

"Alright man," Scott said. "I'll see you in a bit then."

Stiles hung up the phone and went back to his room. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Lydia sleep and feeling like a creeper for doing it. He decided to let her rest for a little while longer. All of the banshee wailing she'd been doing lately was taking its toll. She'd been alternating between anxious energy and extreme fatigue for days. Closing the door behind him, he headed downstairs, determined to make a pot of coffee if he was stuck being awake this early. The sun wasn't even up yet.

As he came to the bottom of the steps and turned the corner, he realized that his previous relief that his father hadn't been to bed yet had been premature.

"Good morning, son," said his father from the dining room table. He already had a mug of coffee before him, as well as a mess of police reports that Stiles assumed were about the recent forest slayings. He'd changed out of his uniform, opting for his track pants and a t-shirt, causing Stiles to realize that no only had his father come home last night, he'd most certainly been upstairs.

Stiles felt his stomach turn to lead. "Uh, morning Dad," he said. "Is the coffee fresh?" he asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the kitchen.

"Yup," the sheriff answered without looking up from his paperwork. "Why don't you get a cup and then come back here and join me."

Stiles gulped and did as his father asked, filling his mug full of coffee, milk, and sugar with shaking hands.

He came back to find his father sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed, a look on his face that was somehow stern and amused. Stiles hated that look. It usually came right before he had his ass handed to him.

Stiles took a seat to his father's right, not making eye contact. He reached forward to leaf through the files on the table but the sheriff swatted his hands away from the reports.

"So," his father began. "I worked late last night."

Stiles took a sip of his coffee and gestured toward the paper-strewn table. "I can see that. Any leads?"

"And when I got home I came upstairs to check on you," the sheriff said, ignoring the question.

"That's uh…that's very, you know…fatherly…uh…of you," Stiles said haltingly, his hands wrapped tightly around his coffee mug.

"Apparently, with all the murders and crazy stuff going on lately, I've been neglecting some of my fatherly duties," John said.

Stiles looked up quickly, meeting his father's eyes for the first time since he'd come downstairs. "What? What are you talking about? No you haven't."

"Yes, I have. Because somehow I've given you the impression that it's okay for you to let girls sleep over. _Unsupervised_."

Stiles brought one of his hands up to scratch the back of his head. "Dad, about that. I swear, it's not what you think."

"I mean, we haven't even had, you know…the talk."

Stiles startled in his seat, splashing hot coffee in his lap. He winced and sat the mug on the table. "Oh god, we don't need to have that talk, okay? Ever. I don't ever want to talk about sex to you _ever_. Please. Spare me the emotional scarring or you're gonna have to pony up for a therapist."

John wasn't amused, still sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Stiles, I'm serious. I mean, were you guys careful? Are you dating? Does her mother know where she is?" He paused. "Are you ready to be a teenage father?"

"God Dad!" Stiles said, throwing his hands up. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck, warming his face. "Stop. Seriously. I did not have sex with Lydia. No, we are not dating. She's one of my best friends. Her mother is out of town, okay? The woman goes on a _lot_ of business trips. I told you it isn't what it looked like. Would you please believe me?"

His father frowned. He reached up to rub his chin. "If it isn't what it looked like then what is it?"

Stiles felt his shoulder sag a little. He was going to have to be honest. He was going to rip off this bandage quickly because he knew it would hurt a little less that way.

"I was talking to her about Mom, okay?" Stiles said. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. "She was helping me research a bit and one thing led to another and we got started talking about Mom. And I…well. I guess I didn't want to be alone, okay?" he paused, looking down at his hands. "And neither did she. I asked her to stay and she did. Which frankly shocks me as much as it shocks you."

The silence stretched on a little longer than Stiles had expected it would. When he looked up, his father was regarding him thoughtfully.

"Lydia, she means a lot to you, doesn't she?" he finally asked with a small, sad smile.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I guess she does."

"And she really is a…banshee?" he asked.

Stiles laughed, feeling a little of the tension bleed out of the room. "Yeah. I know it's nuts, believe me. But she really is. That's part of why I didn't want her to leave. I mean, I think finding these bodies so close together is starting to wear on her. I just, I don't know. I didn't want her going home all alone. I guess I worry about her, you know?"

His father nodded and picked up his own cup, taking a sip. "Look, you guys aren't in trouble for her sleeping over okay? I understand why she was here. And I'm not going to be unreasonable. I mean, I'm hip to the times."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Okay, Dad? The fact that you used the word 'hip' like that totally negates your statement."

"Whatever. Anyway, if this…sleepover…thing…is going to happen on occasion, there needs to be rules," his father said. "You guys are still minors. I'm not going to be party to debauchery."

"Seriously, Dad," Stiles said, his eyebrows raised and his arms thrown out wide. "What is going on with your vocabulary today?"

His father ignored him and continued. "If she's going to stay over, she gets the bed and you get the couch. No exceptions."

"Noted."

"And her mother needs to know where she is, regardless of whether or not she's out of town."

Stiles nodded. "I'll tell Lydia. That shouldn't be a problem."

The sheriff cleared his throat. "And could you ask me ahead of time? We need to have some semblance of a power structure here."

"Okay. I sleep on the couch, Mrs. Martin is informed, and I ask permission," Stiles said, ticking the rules off on his fingers. "Anything else?"

His father didn't answer right away but Stiles could tell that he wasn't finished. He was stalling and to Stiles that was almost never a good thing.

"Don't hurt each other," John finally said. "Maybe you two think no one else notices, but you aren't just friends. Hell, as thick-headed as I am, I can still see that. Maybe you don't have a romantic relationship, but you have something. Just…be careful. Be aware of it. If she means as much to you as you say she does, respect her. Take care of her. And I'm pretty sure she'll return the favor."

Stiles opened his mouth with a sarcastic comment right on the tip of his tongue but he stopped. Instead, he sighed and leaned his elbows on the table, propping his chin in his hands. "I don't ever want to be the guy who hurts her."

The sheriff pushed his chair back from the table and stood. "Look, I don't think you will be. Let's not dwell on it, okay? What do you say to making breakfast before school?"

"Yeah…" Stiles said as he followed his father into the kitchen. "So about school…"

* * *

The human was right there. He was fishing in the stream that meandered through the forest. He wasn't used to humans being in his forest this early. The sun had only just risen. But here was this man, dangling a plastic line in the water, attempting to coax a fish toward his bait, a drowned worm impaled on a pointy bit of metal.

Using bait wasn't a bad idea. He wondered for a moment what sort of bait would draw humans to him. If he could figure that out, he wouldn't have to work so hard to find and isolate them for his prey. But what did humans really want? Some of them seemed to want to hunt and others wanted to fish. So it was safe to assume that humans wanted food. Or was it just that they needed food? If food was a need, what was a want? He'd seen copulation so he knew they wanted sex. But maybe that was just another need. Every species needed to reproduce to insure its survival. So what did humans want? He was pretty sure they weren't capable of deep feelings. They couldn't love like he did. They couldn't appreciate beauty. They didn't seem to differentiate between right and wrong, good and evil. He had been genuinely surprised to find that they had developed language.

So what did they want? He wasn't sure.

As he crept up behind the fisherman, intent on a meal, the man startled and turned around. The human seemed perplexed as to how a tree had materialized out of what must have seemed like mid-air.

Just as the meal was about to be had, his feeling limb already darting toward the man, a sudden vision blinded him. It was a message from the Caller.

He could hear his intended victim screaming and running away but it sounded incredibly far off as the vision from the Caller descended upon him.

In his mind's eye, he could see the boy. The image was very clear. The boy was tied with vines around his wrists and feet, his prone body sprawled across a tree stump. But it wasn't just any stump. It was Nemeton. In the vision, the Caller appeared at the edge of the clearing, crossing to the boy. With a wave of the Caller's hand, the boy's throat split open, his steaming life-force welling up and splashing over Nemeton's lifeless body.

The vision disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving him in his human form and breathless. He hadn't even remembered shifting. His prey was long gone, the fishing tool laying at the edge of the swirling water.

The Caller was getting stronger. Or perhaps more knowledgeable. Either way, the Caller was not able to send him more detailed instructions. And those instructions included spilling blood.

His initial reaction to the idea of taking a life in the presence of his Nemeton made him uneasy. Even if she wasn't there any longer, he didn't like the idea of defiling her memory in such a way. But the more he thought on this, the more he wondered if the death of this boy might be used to bring her back. Surely such a sacrifice would be a step in the right direction. But he wasn't accustomed to using such powers. Blood sacrifice was a powerful force and not to be taken lightly.

Perhaps this was the Caller's purpose. Perhaps the Caller had intended all along to pull his Nemeton back to the land of the living.

Suddenly full of hope and longing, he reached out along the invisible tether that connected him to the Caller, begging for answers. There was nothing but silence. He hadn't yet built his power back up. He couldn't contact the Caller this way. He needed more feedings, more life-force.

He needed to know if the Caller intended to resurrect his beloved.

"_So I can, and I will, And you'll see your hero come running."_

_ Hedley "I Do (Want to Love You)"_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks for being so patient guys! Starting a new job (that went from part-time to full-time, sheesh) and a vacation to GA to see where they film The Vampire Diaries and The Originals really took me out of my writing element for a while. I'm making time to work on this story every day but my posting schedule just got crazy. I'm hoping to get a chapter up a week, but I can't make any promises. Just know that I haven't given up on this. I promise.

So what did you guys think? I love the Stilinski family. They have such a fun dynamic. Totally serious and funny at the same time, lol.


	17. Chapter 9a

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Nine

"Together"

* * *

"_You're not alone. Together we stand. I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand."_

_Avril Lavigne "Keep Holding On"_

Isaac jerked awake from a dreamless sleep, his heart pounding. He could tell by the angle of the sunlight in the room that he'd overslept. One glance at the clock, reading after nine, told him he was right. He sat up quickly and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, taking a second to rub his eyes and let his racing pulse slow down. He hated it when he woke up on alert like that, especially when there seemed to be no reason for it.

He knew he'd set his alarm last night. Or well, he thought he had. He was still getting used to the clock. Just like he was getting used to this bed. In fact, this whole room was taking a little getting used to. But it wasn't a bad thing. He loved having a place of his own. And while that place was still technically the McCall's, they'd gone to great lengths to make sure he knew that he was home here. He still couldn't believe it most of the time.

Isaac was just wondering why Scott hadn't woken him up before he went to school when he realized the other werewolf hadn't left. In fact, the house was full of people. He could hear the heartbeats downstairs in the kitchen, and the talking. And while he couldn't hear the actual conversations, he definitely recognized a few of those voices.

He got up and threw on a lacrosse t-shirt to go with his jogging pants and made his way downstairs, hoping that his ears had betrayed him and that it wasn't actually his former Alpha sitting in the next room.

Derek Hale.

Isaac could feel his pulse speed up again at the thought of the older werewolf and he realized suddenly that hearing Derek's voice in his sleep was probably what jerked him awake this morning. Derek was the man who'd first offered him the bite, and with it a promise of family and protection. He'd lived up to neither of those promises, allowing Isaac and the other betas to be in danger time and time again. Additionally, the moment having Isaac around had become an inconvenience, Derek had thrown him out, pushing him away emotionally as well as physically.

Isaac had put his life on the line for this man. He'd been the one Derek had turned to when the full moon took away the free will of his fellow betas. This man had made honest-to-god promises to Isaac and had gone back on every single one of those. When he'd piled his sister into his black Mustang and left Beacon Hills, Isaac had said good riddance. Their pack was far better off without him.

And now he was back.

Isaac had to fight to keep his wolf down, feeling very territorial for perhaps the first time. He had to clench his fists to keep his claws from extending, putting his lip between his teeth to hold his fangs in place as well. It was a trick he'd learned when getting upset about something in public. If starting to shift was met with immediate pain, with claws in his palms or fangs in his lip, he was less likely to lose control. It hadn't always worked, and almost never kept his eyes from shifting, but it was worth a try. And it worked now, allowing him to step into the kitchen with nothing more than a death-glare for his former Alpha.

Derek was sitting on one of the four barstools around the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee and refusing to meet Isaac's glare though he clearly heard the younger wolf enter the room.

Isaac's attention was immediately pulled away when Cora jumped up from her seat next to her brother, smirking. "Hey there, Lahey. Thought you were going to sleep all day," she said coming around the edge of the island.

Isaac felt a little of his anger melt away. He'd always had a soft spot for the younger Hale. And although it had originally been a romantic attraction, training and fighting together had managed to shift those feelings into a more protective and brotherly category. She held her hand out to shake but Isaac just smirked and pulled her in for a hug. She protested a little before she finally gave in and hugged him back. She felt tiny as her arms wrapped around him, returning the gesture, but he knew exactly what she was capable of and to not be fooled by the small packaging.

"You want some food?" Stiles called over his shoulder from the stove where he was stirring scrambled eggs. "Pancakes are over there. You know, if Scott hasn't eaten them all yet."

Scott, sitting on the counter next to Stiles, grinned with a full mouth and waved half a pancake at him.

"Actually," Isaac said, watching as Cora went back to her seat next to her brooding brother. "I want to know what _he_ is doing here."

"He's here to help us with the bodies that are piling up again," Stiles answered without turning around. "And we would have known he was coming if he'd returned any _one_ of the nine voicemails I left him."

Isaac could see Derek's shoulders tense at the accusation. It was in this moment that Isaac realized that he did, in fact, like Stiles and would need to start having him around more often. He'd forgotten how the human had managed to be the only one who could get snarky with Derek and walk away without broken bones.

"_You _know what's killing people?" Isaac asked incredulously. He walked over to the refrigerator and leaned against it, arms crossed. He didn't feel comfortable enough to sit right now. He was still fighting to refrain from climbing over the island and ripping his former Alpha's throat out with his teeth.

"No," Derek answered, looking up and making eye contact with him for the first time since he'd walked in the room.

"Then I really don't understand what you're doing here," Isaac said, gritting his teeth. He could feel his eyes shift from blue to gold and there wasn't anything he could do to prevent it. "And you should just go. Like, right now."

Scott must have seen his eyes though because he hopped down off the counter. "Isaac, man. Calm down. What's going on?"

"Dude, he's mad because Derek is a dick and was a crap Alpha," Stiles said matter-of-factly, scraping the eggs out of the frying pan and onto a plate. "I mean, who here is actually surprised by that? Seriously, a show of hands?"

"I'm not mad," Isaac said with a gesture of his hand. "I just want to rip his throat out. _Why_ do I want to rip his throat out?"

Scott opened his mouth to answer but Derek interrupted him. "It's a territorial thing."

"What?" Scott said, edging around the island and coming to rest next to Isaac. "I'm the Alpha and I don't feel like, you know, killing you or anything," he paused and shrugged. "I mean, not any more than usual."

Derek ignored the jab and continued. "Look, Alphas aren't the ones who get territorial. It's the betas. When a wolf who isn't in their pack is around their Alpha, they get protective."

"Now that just doesn't make sense," Stiles said. He moved over to the sink and started rinsing the frying pan. "I mean, Scott is around the twins all the time these days and that hasn't set Isaac off," he paused and shot Isaac a glance. "Why couldn't _they _set you off? I don't like _them_."

Cora raised an eyebrow and turned over her shoulder to face Stiles. "Are you saying you like Derek?"

"Nope. I hate that guy," Stiles replied as if the subject of their conversation wasn't sitting right there. "But I sure do _love_ to hate him." He batted his eyelashes at the back of Derek's head. Derek just rolled his eyes.

"Stiles is dumb but he has a point," Isaac said, ignoring Stiles sputtering in the background. "I mean, they don't bother me. Cora doesn't bother me. Back when you were the Alpha, Scott didn't bother me. What gives?"

Derek sighed, rolling his head on his neck. The gesture made Isaac's claws start to descend as his wolf saw an opening. But they immediately broke the skin of his palms and Isaac was able to draw them back in with effort.

"Look," Derek said. "On some level, your wolf has accepted those people. Your wolf has decided that they are no danger to your Alpha."

"But you're not a danger to me," Scott said with a frown.

Derek pointed a finger at Isaac. "Try telling your beta that."

Isaac tore his eyes off Derek as Scott grabbed his shoulders, swinging him around to look at him instead.

"Isaac," Scott said, his eyes flashing red. "Derek is not a threat to me. Chill out, okay?"

And…Isaac felt better. Just like that. He could feel his eyes shift back to blue as his irrational anger went down a few notches. He closed his eyes and took a breath. As he opened them, Scott stepped back, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

"I'm fine," Isaac said, relieved to no longer want to spill blood in Melissa's kitchen. He felt bad enough that he'd been the reason her living room table was broken. He didn't want to have to explain blood stains next. He turned back and glared at Derek. Not all of his anger was gone, just the desire to maim and kill. "But I still don't like you."

Derek smirked. "I didn't say you had to."

Isaac sent him one last glare before moving over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup, black.

"Okay, so now that we have the throat-ripping desire under control, you guys mind telling us where you've been?" Stiles asked, putting the plates of eggs and pancakes out on the island. "I mean, besides dodging phone calls from back home that is?"

"You're never going to let go of that one, are you?" Derek asked. He grabbed a paper plate from the stack by his elbow and started spooning out eggs for himself.

"No one holds a grudge like Stiles," Scott said with a grin, hopping back up on the counter. "But he has a good point. Where've you been for the past, what, three weeks?"

"Well," Cora spoke up. She took a pancake off the stack and bit into it. "That has more to do with me than with him."

Isaac took a sip of his coffee. He sat down in the seat across from her. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "Well, we went back to find my old pack. I mean, those guys pretty much raised me. I wanted to see if anyone, you know, survived Deucalion coming through and taking me."

"Did they?" Scott asked.

She shook her head, her eyes falling to the pancake in her hands. "No. Not a single one of them. My whole damn pack was just…slaughtered. It was…awful. So that's why we didn't come back right away. I had a few arrangements to make. Things to, well, take care of."

The mood in the room had taken a somber turn at this news. So that was why they'd left. Isaac had just assumed it was Derek running with his tail tucked between his legs after botching his time as Alpha. But really, he was doing a favor for his little sister. Perhaps it was a self-serving favor, helping him escape the people who likely saw his lack of leadership to blame for so much death and destruction. But perhaps Isaac was the only one who blamed him. He didn't know. It wasn't a topic he'd discussed with anyone else.

Slaughtered. The word brought images to Isaac's mind that made his stomach turn. He suddenly wished that Cora hadn't had to go through that alone. Isaac knew what it felt like to lose pack-members. It was a fate he wouldn't have wished on anyone and he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to lose all of them, all at once. With Boyd and Erica's deaths, there'd been time between them to mourn the loss. But losing your whole pack just years after losing your entire family? He couldn't even begin to imagine how badly that must hurt.

He watched as Derek reached over and bumped the back of her right hand with the back of his left. It was a subtle movement and anyone who wasn't watching would think it hadn't been intentional. But it was one of the former Alpha's ways of showing comfort, showing affection. Derek was never as obvious as hugging someone. He tended toward little things and this made them all the more effective.

Cora sniffled once, though no tears were evident, and went back to eating her dry pancake.

* * *

"So are you going to tell me about it or are you going to make me ask?"

Lydia startled at the sound of Allison's voice, pulling her out of the trance she usually fell into when applying her make-up. "What are you talking about?" she asked as she put the finishing touches on her eyeliner.

Allison bounced on the edge of Lydia's bed, watching her through the mirror. "Well that answers _that_. You are _totally_ gonna make me ask. Fine," she paused with a grin. "How was it last night?"

Lydia frowned, turning her head from one side to the other to make sure her eyes were evenly lined. "How was _what_ last night?"

Allison threw her hands up. "You know what I'm talking about. How was the sex? You know, with Stiles?"

"What?" Lydia squeaked, her eyes going wide at the accusatory tone in her best friend's voice. "I did _not_ have sex with Stiles. Where did you even _get_ that idea?"

Allison laughed. "I mean, come on Lydia. You spent the night at his house. Since when do you sleep at a guy's house and not, you know, sleep with him?"

Lydia pursed her lips. She figured she'd earned that question. Through the last few months, her routine for getting over Jackson had very much been about keeping herself sexually satisfied. She was always careful, making sure she took her pill every day and always using condoms. But that sort of…frivolity…in a young woman was generally looked down upon. It was a total double standard because guys their age were pretty much expected to be horn dogs. But a girl behaving the same way made her a slut. So Lydia was generally discreet because she didn't like those kinds of labels. And while most of her other friends at school had no idea what she'd been up to in the sack lately, Allison knew all the juicy details, which certainly explained her surprise.

"Stiles is different," Lydia said, turning back to the mirror and picking up her favorite lip gloss.

"Different is the _nice_ way of putting it," Allison quipped, noticing her best friend's expression darken at the comment.

Lydia turned to say something but Allison interrupted her thought.

"Oh my god, I knew it," she said, her eyes wide. "You have feelings for him, don't you?"

"I…wait. What?" Lydia asked, furrowing her brow. "You mean like 'feelings' feelings?"

"Romantic feelings," Allison elaborated. "You are totally in love with him."

Again, Lydia opened her mouth to retort, but this time it wasn't Allison stopping her from continuing. She stopped herself, thinking back to earlier this morning at the Stilinski house.

"I…overheard something that I don't think I was supposed to hear this morning," she said. "When Stiles was talking to his dad."

"Okay," Allison said with a confused expression at what seemed like an abrupt change of topic.

Lydia shook her head and looked down at her hands. "The sheriff had pretty much assumed the worst too, thinking I'd spent the night because we were having sex. So he was doing the whole father-son-sex-talk thing."

"Ugh," Allison said, scrunching her nose. "I do not want to think about Stiles' dad talking about sex."

Lydia laughed, a little breathlessly. "Yeah, it was weird. See, I woke up and heard them downstairs. I actually thought about sneaking out while they were talking but I couldn't. My car is still at school and there was no way I was going to walk that far."

"I get that…sort of," Allison said, leaning back on her hands. "You realize you're jumping around in your story a lot and not making much sense, right?"

"I know. I'm sorry," Lydia said. She took a deep breath and tried again, cursing her banshee-rattled brain for making her sound so absentminded. "So, I stopped on the stairs and just listened for a minute and the sheriff asked Stiles if I _meant_ something to him and Stiles said _yes_."

Allison blinked a couple of times and then raised an eyebrow. "Really? How did you not know that? I mean, he's been telling you he's in love with you for years, right?"

Lydia stood up and started pacing. "Yeah, well. I mean, that always felt different. Like it was some kiddy crush, you know? Infatuation. It was infatuation before. But now? I don't know. I think…I think you're right."

"Right about which thing?"

"About me having feelings. Romantic feelings."

"Aha!" Allison grinned. "I knew it. Thank you for finally admitting it."

Lydia crossed her arms and turned to look at her best friend. "Yeah, well. Admitting it doesn't fix anything."

"I wasn't aware that something was broken."

"Obviously _I'm_ broken," Lydia exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "I mean, why else do I have feelings for Stiles?"

Allison frowned. "How are you not seeing this as a good thing? I mean, Stiles is a little…I don't know…_Stiles_…but he's a great guy. He's cute and funny and smart. What's not to like?"

Lydia sat back down at her make-up table. "It's not that. It's not even that I don't want to like him because obviously I do. But…Allison, please don't take this the wrong way, but lately…God, lately he's been my best friend. He's been exactly what Deaton said we were to each other. Tether. He's been my tether while I'm dealing with all this banshee mess. I do not want to ruin that with…feelings."

"How would feelings ruin it?" Allison asked.

"Well…they complicate things," she replied. "I mean, just look at you and Isaac for example."

Allison frowned. "What about me and Isaac?"

Lydia shrugged. "Wasn't it feelings that got the two of you in the mess you're in right now?"

"Wait a minute, _what mess_?"

"The whole sexual-tension-thick-enough-to-cut-with-a-knife situation you two have going on," Lydia said with a wave of her hand. "I mean really, it's almost to the point of being uncomfortable being in the same room with you two. I wish you guys would just do the deed and get it out of the way so the rest of us can move on."

For a second, Lydia wondered if she'd gone too far. Allison's cheeks flamed red and her jaw dropped. But she just covered her mouth with her hands, hiding the embarrassed grin behind them. "Oh god, is it that obvious?"

Lydia moved over to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her friend's shoulders. "Honey, I get hot and bothered just to look at the two of you fighting it."

Allison laughed out loud and shrugged Lydia's arm off playfully. "You're a bitch sometimes, you know that?" she said with no real malice behind it.

"So I've been told," Lydia said with a smirk. She hopped up off the bed and clapped her hands together. "Okay, so are we heading over to McCall's house or what?"

Allison stood and grabbed her purse off the bed behind her. "Yeah we better. Scott said Stiles is making breakfast so if we don't get there soon, we'll be out of luck."

Lydia paused. "He's making breakfast again?"

"I don't know about_ again_ but I do know he's cooking," Allison replied as she headed toward the hallway.

Lydia shrugged, following her out. "It's just that he cooked breakfast for me and his dad this morning too."

Allison turned and grinned at her, walking backwards down the hallway toward the stairs.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up."

_...to be continued..._

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks for tuning in again guys. I'm always floored by your comments and reviews. Such amazingness we make together!

ATTENTION ARTISTS: I can't draw. Nope. I paint with words instead. However, I'd love to see some fan art! I was wondering if any of you folks would be interested in drawing for my story. Any scene, any characters. I'd love to see what your minds come up with. Send me a PM or leave a note in a review. I think it would be a lot of fun to connect this way. Thanks in advance because I know you are some fabulously talented peeps.


	18. Chapter 9b

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Nine

"Together"

* * *

…_continued…_

Stiles ate his last bite of pancake, his mind a million miles away. After the events that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours, he found his mind was a swirling mess. Between banshee wails and bodies, mother vision revelations and research, he was starting to have a hard time focusing on any one thing. His burgeoning feelings for Lydia aside, he couldn't help thinking about something she'd said yesterday afternoon, his gut telling him that it had something to do with what was going on in the woods. He hadn't had an opportunity to talk to anyone about it yet, but he thought he'd better take the chance to do so now, before some other disaster came along and made him forget about it.

"Scott," Stiles said as he dropped his paper plate in the garbage. "Man, can I talk to you upstairs for a minute?"

Stiles ignored the questioning glances from Cora and Isaac sitting at the island, and ignored the _ignoring _from Derek, as Scott hopped off the counter, finishing another pancake in one bite.

"Sure buddy," Scott said around the mouthful of food, gesturing for him to follow as the werewolf left the kitchen and headed upstairs.

Stiles trailed him, thankful that his best friend didn't ask him any questions while still in earshot of the other wolves. Granted, he might not have been able to with the pancake in his mouth. He'd thought Scott could put away food before but since he'd become a werewolf, it seemed like his best friend was always devouring something.

"So what's up?" Scott asked as they entered his room. He shut the door behind them and fell backwards on his bed, tucking his hands behind his head and waiting for a response.

Stiles grabbed Scott's computer chair and turned it around, straddling it. "Okay, so it's something Lydia said to me yesterday. I've been thinking about it a lot."

Scott groaned and closed his eyes.

"What?" Stiles asked, throwing his arms out wide. "I haven't even said anything yet."

"Doesn't matter," Scott replied, reaching up and pulling one of his pillows over his face. "I feel like you're about to get back at me for all my lovey-dovey talk back when I first met Allison."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Scott knocked the pillow out of the way and propped himself up on his elbows. "You mean you weren't about to tell me about how you're _so_ in love with Lydia?"

"Oh my god," Stiles said with a roll of his eyes. "I swear, is that all you're ever thinking about? Love and getting laid?"

Scott shrugged.

"No," Stiles said. "People are _dying _out there. So no, I was _not_ going to talk about love. I mean, we'll have to get to that eventually because you're right and I totally owe you _hours_ of non-stop pining. But seriously, it's something else. Maybe a banshee thing."

This got Scott's attention and he sat all the way up, concern written on his features. "What is it?"

Stiles propped his arms up on the back of the computer chair, rolling himself a little from one side to the other. "How much do you know about this girl, Kira Jones?"

Scott frowned. "Well, she's been in a few of our classes since the beginning of school, right?" he asked, uncertainty in his tone.

"Yeah, see that's what I thought too. But Lydia is completely convinced that we're all crazy. Because for her, Kira just showed up at the beginning of the week."

Scott crossed his arms and thought about this for a moment. "Yeah, I remember her saying something like that on Monday." He paused. "Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but do you think that maybe Lydia could be, well, the crazy one?"

Stiles blinked and stared at him. "What?"

Scott gestured with his hands while he explained. "I mean, look at her track record. She's been kind of crazy lately, Right? Writing weird things, seeing stuff, hearing things…feeling…things…that no one else…can…wait." He stopped talking and it was as if a light bulb had come on in his head mid-sentence. "That makes sense. Stiles, she sees and feels things that no one else can, right? So maybe she's right. Maybe there's something weird going on with this Kira chick."

Stiles threw his hands in the air. "Yes! Thank you Captain Obvious. See, that's what I thought too, after I had time to think about it. But the question is how? Well, I mean there are a ton more questions than that right now, but first of all. How? I mean, how is this girl making us believe we've always known her? And why would she want to? And why does it work on werewolves and humans but not banshees? Or is she specifically singling Lydia out?"

Scott rubbed his face with his hands and stood up to start pacing. "Oh man, do you think this girl could be the killer?"

Stiles shrugged. "I mean, it crossed my mind. It seems pretty skeevy that she shows up around the time that bodies start dropping and is doing some crazy witchy-mojo to make us all believe that we've known her all year. So yeah, it's suspicious."

Scott stopped walking. "I get the feeling that you don't think it's her though, do you?"

"I don't know," Stiles said. He spun the chair in a circle, just to be moving. The amazing calm he'd felt when sitting next to Lydia most of the night had completely worn off. "I mean, I spent the other morning in the library talking to her. She seems really, I don't know, normal."

"Yeah, well. So did Ms. Blake," Scott replied.

"Okay, that's a good point."

Scott moved over and sat back down on his bed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why didn't you want to talk about this with the others around?" he asked, pointing in the vague direction of the kitchen.

"Are you kidding?" Stiles said with a raised eyebrow. "Throw this kind of information around in front of the Act-Now-Ask-Questions-Later Squad? I'd pretty much be signing Kira's death sentence before we knew anything else about her."

Scott laughed. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense," he said. He sighed. "But seriously, what are we gonna do with this? Do we just confront her?"

"Yeah, I have no idea. That's why I wanted to tell you about it," Stiles answered. "I mean, you're the leader these days, right?"

"Ugh, yeah."

"So…lead on, leader."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each with their own thoughts.

"Speaking of being the leader, can I make a request?" Scott asked in a serious tone.

"Yeah," Stiles said with a furrowed brow. "You can ask me anything. What is it?"

"I know you were just joking with the 'crap Alpha' stuff in the kitchen this morning, but could you, I don't know, give Derek a break? I mean, yeah. He didn't really do a great job when he was in charge but I think that it's really eating him up. I think he feels really bad about that. So, could you kind of not push him about it?"

Stiles stared back at him, stunned. He hadn't really thought about his remarks. He'd been picking on Derek from day one. Granted, at first he just really hated the wolf. Now they had a strange grudging respect, a mutual interest in keeping each other safe, a friendship that defied explanation. It was the way they worked. Stiles would tease and Derek would bounce his head off something. No one said it was perfect, but it was normal for them.

"Wow," Stiles said, sitting up a little straighter in the chair. "You know I don't think I ever really thought about Derek having…feelings. I just figured his werewolf super power was a really thick skin."

"His what?" Scott asked, shaking his head in confusion.

Stiles shrugged. "His werewolf super power," he repeated, as if just saying it again somehow explained it.

"We have super powers?"

"Yeah, of course you do," Stiles answered and started ticking them off on his fingers, one by one. "You have super-restraint, Isaac has super-loyalty, Cora has a super-quick temper…although now that I think about it, that could just be a _Hale_ thing…and Derek has super feelingless-ness, which I realize isn't a word but if it _were_, it'd have Derek's picture next to it in the dictionary."

Scott laughed and shook his head. "Look, he really does have feelings. Well, probably. But the thing is we need him around, at least until we deal with this thing killing people. It's all hands on deck right now. So just don't run him off with…you know. Being you."

"Ah gee, thanks," Stiles said with a frown, crossing his arms. "And this from my best friend too."

Scott stood, laughing, and Stiles couldn't help but crack a grin, too.

"So is that all or can we go down and wait for the girls?" Scott asked. "I mean, we did leave Isaac down there with Derek. I'm a little surprised that the throat-ripping hasn't already started."

"Yup. Well, unless you want me to get in those few hours of love-sick pining about Lydia."

Scott shook his head, moving to the doorway. "Dude, what is _with_ you two these days?"

Stiles followed him, throwing his hands in the air. "Man, I have no idea."

And he really didn't. He'd thought last night that they were making a little headway. He hadn't been lying to his dad when he admitted that Lydia was important to him. It was more than the crush he'd had since grade school and he knew it. But he had no idea where she was, emotionally. After they'd had a healthy breakfast of spinach and egg white omelets, much to his father's dismay, he'd offered her a ride home on his way to Scott's and she'd eagerly agreed. She wanted a shower and change of clothes.

But the easy silence that they'd shared the previous night was gone, awkwardness in its place. He'd opened his mouth half a dozen times to start a conversation but nothing would come out. She had seemed perfectly content to stare out the window in a daze. It felt like déjà vu. They'd had this same car ride before, he was sure of it.

He had pulled up at her house, completely expecting her to just jump out and leave without a backwards glance. But instead she'd turned to him and hugged him, a little awkwardly since he was still buckled in and hadn't realized her intent until she was doing it. Before he had the chance to hug her back, she'd already let go, flashing him a small smile before hurrying up the walk to her house.

So he really had no idea. And even though it was driving him crazy, this back and forth dance they seemed to be doing, he didn't mind. Because regardless of what she might have said or done in the past, she was dancing this dance with _him_. Him, of all people. And he was determined not to take that for granted.

* * *

Now that he had hope, now that he had a reason to exist other than to just do the Caller's bidding, he found himself exceedingly anxious to get it done.

If the Caller was hoping to revive Nemeton, to bring life back to her broken husk, he would do whatever was necessary in assistance. He would play whatever game it was that this Caller was playing, go through with whatever plan it took to bring his beloved back to life. She had been his heart and soul, his companion for all time. He was broken and lost without her.

When he'd been in his slumber, his hibernation from the world of the living, he had been surrounded by her love, never knowing that she'd been slaughtered and wouldn't be there when he awoke. He had gone into his peaceful state sure that she was doing the same, drifting in a blissful disregard to the world around them.

But she was gone. Her soul had been parted from her body and her body had been torn apart. If he could bring her back, he would.

In order to do that, he needed to feed, and feed heartily at that. He wasn't strong enough to bring the boy to him as the Caller wished.

The human fisherman had long since departed, fleeing the forest in the face of what he must have perceived to be a monster. But there were other humans in the forest, if one knew where to look.

In his stag form, he crashed through the undergrowth, heedless of the scratches of the bramble bushes. He paid no attention to the lashes and bruises of the braches he broke through, mentally saying a little prayer for anything he broke along his way. He was in too great a hurry to be properly contrite but he knew, were he able to bring back Nemeton, together the two of them would put right anything he'd harmed in the process.

Finally he slowed, approaching a clearing in the woods cautiously so as not to frighten the humans there. Two of them, a man and a woman, had built a small fire and were burning pieces of his brother and sister trees there, using the resulting flames to cook some sort of processed animal flesh. Behind them stood a hut of synthesized and artificial materials, presumably to protect them from the elements. But the flimsy human hut would not be able to protect them from him.

Behind the cover of the other trees, he shifted into his own tree form. With all the energy he could muster, he pulled the humans forward with his empathy control, willing them to come to him without struggle.

His powers were stronger now than they had been a few days prior. His empathy control was more effective. Had he not been interrupted and had his concentration broken before with the fishing human, the man would have never been able to run. Now these humans were similarly ensnared, blindly stumbling toward him with open arms.

He took them both at once, two feeding limbs extending simultaneously and piercing their middles. The feeling was euphoric as their blood and life energy surged toward him, mixing together and filling him with power. He was reeling and giddy, letting their bodies fall to the ground without remorse.

He couldn't even be bothered to carry them to the forest edge. Not now. His mind was buzzing from the extra energy, from the essential life force now flowing within him. He could feel his true form, the one he could only achieve when he'd been properly fed, bursting at the seams within him, begging to be set free.

But not yet. If he shifted to his true form now he would expend all that newly found power and for what? No. He had to contain all of this energy and use it to draw the boy to him. The Caller needed that boy's blood to be spilled and he intended to help the Caller do just that.

For a moment, he reconsidered the bodies at his feet. If he left them here, along the side of a hiking trail, the other humans would find them and he would run the risk of being exposed. Shifting into his human form, he bent and lifted the lifeless husks and threw them over his shoulder, heading deeper into the forest. He wasn't sure whether the bodies were lighter now because he'd fed or if they were lighter because they had no fluids any longer. Whatever the case, he carried both with no trouble.

When he'd first awoken and found his beloved had been slain, he had deplored the idea of interring any human remains near her. Now, with the understanding that she could be revived, he realized that this place should be a testament to the process it took to bring that life back to her. This would be his trophy ground. It wasn't a sacred resting place. It would be the place of rebirth. He would want to show her, when she woke, just how many humans he'd stolen the lives of in retaliation for her death. He was sure she would be pleased.

So he carried the bodies toward his Nemeton, determined now more than ever to bring her back to life.

"_There's nothing you could say, Nothing you could do. There's no other way when it comes to the truth. So keep holding on. Don't you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through."_

_ Avril Lavigne "Keep Holding On"_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: So I know this update was shorter than what we're used to but that was necessary. What happens next absolutely had to be its own chapter, so I couldn't piggy-back it to this one. Sorry about that. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway and I can't wait for you to read what's coming next. So excited.

So in the call for artists, I received an awesome drawing from YsrilaN. I can't post a link here, but if you go to deviantart dot com and search for her name DarkIfaerie, her drawing is the Moving in the Dark Companion. I was so excited to see a visual representation of the words that I've written. Totally awesome. And I implore any other artists (or budding artists) to add to the magic! Also, leave YsrilaN a comment on her picture. She worked really hard on it.

Thank you so much for all the reviews guys. I can't believe we're creeping up to 200 already! You guys are absolutely amazing. I hope that I continue to deliver for you all.


	19. Chapter 10a

"Moving in the Dark"

Lucawindmover

Chapter Nine

"Worth"

* * *

"_The skin of your teeth and the pain in your back. What'd you know about hope? What'd you know about that?" Redlight King "Born to Rise"_

"You know, I feel like we haven't talked at all this week," Lydia said from the passenger seat of Allison's car. She was checking her make-up in the mirror on the back of the visor as Allison drove them to Scott's house.

"I know. I hate that. There has just been _so_ much going on," Allison said, turning right at a stop sign. "I don't think I ever got to tell you about my dream."

"Well, tell me about it now," Lydia replied, folding the visor back up. "I mean, I assume you brought it up now because you don't want to talk about it in front of the boys."

Allison laughed a little and nodded. It was true. She hadn't even talked to Isaac about it. He'd been there to comfort her when she'd woken up from it but she hadn't told him what had happened in the dream. She didn't want him to freak him out. It wasn't normal to dream about violently killing people that you cared about. But at the same time, she couldn't completely keep it to herself. She had to tell someone. Between the imaginary handprint and now this creepy dream, she was starting to feel like she was going crazy. And holding it in was too much for her.

"Okay, so the other day Isaac was over and we were studying in my room," she started, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

Lydia smirked and crossed her arms. "Studying? Come on, you can tell me what you were really doing. I swear."

Allison threw her hands up. "God, Lydia. I have not been sleeping with Isaac. I promise, if I ever do, you'll be the_ first _person to know, okay?

"Fine," Lydia said with a wave of her hand. "Just keep living in denial. But continue with your story."

"Yeah, pot calling the kettle black there, friend. Ugh, so I was saying," she started. "That we were studying and he fell asleep on the foot of my bed and—"

"Oh god," Lydia interrupted.

Allison sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Look, if you don't want to hear about it, just say so."

"No, no, no, no, oh god."

"Lydia, what-?" Allison asked, turning to look at her friend as she started to pull up in front of Scott's house.

But Lydia couldn't answer her. She was convulsing in the passenger seat, her arms wrapped around her middle as she attempted to keep from screaming. Allison couldn't park fast enough before Lydia's wail erupted.

It was a wave of pure sound. Allison was knocked to the side, hitting her head on the driver's side window. She slammed on the brakes but not in time to keep from running over the McCall's mailbox. She felt as if her whole body was vibrating with the force of Lydia's wail. The car, now stopped on the curb with the mailbox underneath it, had smoke coming out from under the hood.

Lydia's scream cut off abruptly and the sudden lack of sound was nearly as painful as the wailing had been, causing Allison to feel like her head was in a vacuum. Both girls scrambled to unbuckle their seat belts and stumble from the damaged vehicle. Allison swayed on her feet. Reaching up to her left temple, she felt a dampness there and realized that she was bleeding. She watched with a mild disinterest as Lydia fell to her knees and vomited up the breakfast that she'd eaten at the Stilinski house earlier that morning.

Allison felt drunk as she stumbled over to the grass. Just as she was about to let herself fall, no longer caring about whether or not it would hurt, a strong pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, keeping her on her feet.

"Allison, are you okay?" Isaac said in her ear. He turned her around and his face swam before her eyes. "You're bleeding."

She put her hand up to her temple again, looking at her blood-stained fingers in confusion. She'd forgotten about that. Why was she bleeding? "I…Lydia was wailing. I think I hit the mailbox."

They were suddenly surrounded by werewolves. Scott was there, and Cora and Derek. And Stiles was there but he wasn't a werewolf. Allison giggled softly and felt Isaac's arms tighten around her a little. Why was he holding her up? She could stand on her own two feet. She wasn't some damsel in distress that needed saving. She was an…huh. She was an Arson? That wasn't right. She was something that started with the letter A, she was sure of it. Aardvark? She giggled again.

"Guys, I think Allison hit her head pretty hard," she heard Isaac say to the others. But she couldn't make herself focus on his face so she wasn't sure it was him talking. Sounded like him though. Had that Isaacy sound to it. Isaacy. Icky? No, Isaac wasn't icky. What was he talking about again? Aardvarks? Something about aardvarks, she was sure.

She could hear Lydia talking really quickly in the background and when she looked over, Stiles was helping her up off the grass and gesturing wildly toward Allison's car.

"Hey!" Allison said, pulling away from Isaac a little and stumbling for the effort. "What happened to my car?"

Several pairs of eyes looked back at her curiously. Why were they looking at her like that? Had she grown a second head or something? Actually, she might have. The one she had felt like it was full of cotton balls. She stopped and reached up to make sure she really did only have one.

"Allison," Scott said, leaving Lydia's side and moving in front of her instead. "You ran over the mailbox, remember? Lydia was wailing?"

But she couldn't get her brain to focus. Of course she ran over the mailbox. That made sense to her. But when had it happened. And why was her hair wet on the left side?

"Look, we have to go right now. _Right now_, Stiles. Tell them!" Lydia was shrieking in the background. Where were they going? Didn't they just get here? Wait, how long had they been here? And what happened to her car?

Allison stopped trying to make sense of what was going on and just listened.

"Okay," Scott said, taking a step back. "Look, Lydia. You and Stiles take the jeep. Isaac, you and Allison should ride with them. I don't think her car is going to make it anywhere right now."

"What about us?" Derek asked.

Allison spun around and grinned. Derek! When had he gotten here? Wait. Was she supposed to be happy to see him? She couldn't remember. No. She was supposed to be against him, right? Because she was an….ar…arson…aardvark…nope. Not an aardvark. But something like that.

"If you guys want to come, just follow in your car I guess."

And then suddenly, Allison was in the jeep. She wasn't sure when she'd gotten there but she didn't really care. She was very comfortable. Isaac had his arm around her, using a towel to clean the blood from temple. Wait, she was bleeding? Well, it didn't matter. Isaac's hands were gentle and his shoulder was welcoming.

"It's Argent, not aardvark," she said softly to no one in particular. Isaac's arm tightened around her again but she didn't mind this time. She leaned against him and let the sound of Stiles and Lydia arguing in the front seat lull her into a comfortable lethargy.

* * *

If Derek were to be honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he was both surprised and impressed by the Beacon Hills pack. He and his sister had only been gone for a few weeks but in their absence it seemed as if every single person he'd known had changed to some degree.

Unsurprisingly, Isaac and Allison were closer. He'd watched as Isaac tenderly carried Allison to the jeep, procuring a towel from Stiles, who happened to have one among the things under his back seat. Derek had noticed, even if only peripherally, that the pair had become partners of sorts while the Alpha pack was in town. He would have liked to talk to Allison, if for no other reason than to pick her brain about her father and his thoughts on this latest murder spree, but the blow she took to the head in the car accident had her very disoriented.

Lydia seemed a little more fragile than he'd remembered, but it was a mental thing, not a physical one. Granted, she'd only just finished a banshee wail so it was possible that the fragileness was a side effect and not how she normally behaved. He wasn't sure.

But one thing he was sure of was how dedicated Stiles was to the girl. That hadn't changed from before. Stiles had always been a loyal friend. And while Derek went to great lengths not to be drawn into their teen high school dramas, he knew that Stiles had carried a torch for this girl for years. He couldn't help but overhear these things. Now it seemed as if the girl returned those feelings. The way she'd grasped Stiles' sweatshirt and begged him to take her to the bodies, how she continued to cling to him until she'd gotten into the jeep, couldn't be mistaken for wailing side effects. Granted, he didn't know that for sure.

The greatest difference, and yet the most subtle, was Scott. There had always been a part of Derek that was jealous of the younger wolf. Jealous of how naturally control came to him, of how his friends were so instantly loyal to him, of how confident he always was about what was right and what was wrong. His leadership qualities were undeniable. Derek was ashamed at the part of him that had secretly hoped to return and find the pack in shambles. It was petty and below him to even think it, but he had.

And yet, the pack was more functional than ever. Scott had effortlessly given directions and no one had stopped to question him. Even he and Cora had gone right along with his instructions, hopping in the car and following Stiles' jeep into the woods without a second thought.

"Guys, I really think we need to take Allison to the hospital," Isaac said as he jumped out of the jeep. Lydia was already stumbling off through the foliage with Stiles close behind her. He turned back as if to say something to Isaac but Lydia grabbed him by the shirtsleeve and pulled him out of sight.

Scott hopped off his motorcycle and left his helmet sitting on the seat. "We could call an ambulance," he said a little uncertainly. "But I mean, then we have to explain what happened. And why we moved her from the scene of the accident. And probably a whole bunch of other questions that we don't' have answers for."

Derek took a moment to decide. He owed Isaac. He owed the younger wolf more than he'd ever be able to repay so he might as well start trying. "Here," he said, tossing his car keys to Isaac. "Take her in my car."

Isaac caught the keys and frowned, distrust written plainly on his face. "_Your_ car?"

Derek crossed his arms and remembered how quickly Isaac had jumped when Scott was the one giving directions. "It's either that, or wait for Stiles to come back with the jeep keys. And from the way she smells, you probably shouldn't wait that long."

"He's right," Scott chimed in. "I mean, I can smell that Allison's still bleeding from here. She really needs to be checked out."

With that, Isaac nodded and pocketed the keys. He turned back to the jeep to scoop up Allison.

"Thanks for that man," Scott said, clasping Derek on the shoulder for a moment. Derek just nodded.

"You know she's going to get blood all over your upholstery, right?" Cora said as the three of them started off in the direction of Stiles and Lydia. Even though the sun was starting to creep up the sky, it was cold under the trees. Werewolves tended to run warmer than the average human but that didn't make them entirely impervious to temperature. Derek chose to ignore his sister, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket instead. He didn't like to encourage her.

Scott shot her an incredulous look but Derek just shook his head. "Yeah, that doesn't matter," he said dismissively.

"Doesn't matter?" Cora sputtered. "You don't even let me eat in there and you're okay with her bleeding everywhere?"

"You really are a Hale, aren't you?" Scott said and Derek suddenly wished he wasn't walking in the middle.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she spat. Derek could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

"It means you have feelinglessness as your werewolf superpower, that's what," Scott grumbled under his breath.

Cora stopped walking and fixed Derek with a confused expression. Derek just shrugged. That was a new one for him.

"Feelinglessness?" Cora asked as they resumed walking behind Scott.

Scott shrugged but didn't turn around. "Yeah, it's just something dumb that Stiles said. Forget it."

Cora laughed. "That boy is just chock full of stupid, isn't he?"

This time it was Derek who stopped her, throwing his arm out across her chest and knocking her back a little. She frowned as he turned to her, his eyes glowing blue as his wolf simmered under the surface. There was a fine line between not encouraging her and letting her be offensive.

"Enough," he said. It was all that was needed. Cora's lips tightened into a straight line but she didn't say anything else. Derek might not have been her Alpha but he was her older brother and she seemed to respect that, to an extent at least.

Derek turned back to Scott who nodded appreciatively. The trio continued on in a tense silence, following the scent of their friends to a very familiar clearing, deep in the woods.

Lydia and Stiles were just inside the clearing, standing next to a pair of bodies that were as shriveled as the others had been, gaping wounds in through their stomachs. But that wasn't the only noteworthy detail this time.

"Do you see that?" Stiles asked as they approached. He was pointing to a long, shallow hole next to the bodies. The dirt was heaped to the side of the whole. It almost looked like one giant scoop, as if one incredibly large hand had dipped down and moved the earth. That wasn't possible, but the hole gave the illusion of it.

Scott frowned as they approached. "It looks like someone was going to bury them this time," he answered. "That's new."

Derek crouched down next to the bodies, sniffing them. They were completely devoid of fluids, just like Stiles had said in his voicemails. He'd never seen anything like this. It certainly wasn't a werewolf kill, of that he was certain. And although the bodies were drained, they were still warm somehow. "This is a really fresh kill."

"That's what I thought," Stiles said, crossing his arms. "I mean, I can't smell them and I was definitely not going to touch them. But I'm still pretty sure that we interrupted the killer burying the bodies. I mean, why leave them next to the hole unless you're about to be caught?"

"Oh god, it's still out here, isn't it?" Lydia asked. She looked like she was shivering. Derek was about to shrug out of his jacket and offer it to her but Stiles beat him to it, pulling his hoodie over his head and handing it to her. She frowned at it for a moment before deciding being warm was worth how the sweatshirt would clash with her outfit.

"Do you guys smell anything?" Scott asked, looking between Derek and Cora. "I mean, I don't smell anything. All I smell is trees."

Cora snickered. "What? Murderous trees?" she said as she bent down to examine the bodies. The smirk slid off her face when she realized that Scott was right. "Huh. That's really weird."

As Derek let his eyes scan the clearing, looking for any detail that might lead them to the killer, something caught his eyes. "Scott," he said, taking a couple steps away from the bodies. "Did that stump always look like that?"

Scott turned to see where he was pointing. It was the Nemeton stump, he was pretty sure. But it was covered in tiny flowers. Pink, yellow, white, blue…and beyond the fact that they shouldn't have been able to grow on the stump, it was certainly not the season for flowers of any kind.

"No, definitely not," Scott answered. He gestured for Derek to follow him and the two of them walked over to the stump. "What the hell is going on here?" he asked softly, bending down to pick one of the flowers.

The moment the flower was plucked, it shriveled and turned to dust in his hands.

Derek pursed his lips and scented the area, walking around the edge of the stump and skirting the small crater formed by the underground cellar having collapsed weeks ago. It was on the far side that he caught a scent that he recognized.

Peter? When had his uncle been out here? His scent hadn't been anywhere near the bodies so he was pretty sure his uncle hadn't been the one punching holes through people and draining them of their fluids. But he had been out here, sometime recently.

Derek hadn't seen or heard from Peter since before he and Cora left. The man was completely off the grid. It wasn't unusual for Peter. When Derek thought back to before the fire, he remembered that his uncle had always been coming and going, showing his face when he needed something or was up to something. So his absence wasn't nearly as concerning as his presence. And presently, his scent was on the stump. It was incredibly faint. The only other person who would likely even recognize it was Cora, but even that was a slim chance.

"Have you seen or heard from Peter?" Derek asked, making his way back around to Scott.

The younger wolf shook his head. "No. I kind of thought he left town. Why?"

Derek frowned. He wanted to figure out what Peter was up to before he set this new Alpha on his trail. Derek didn't really like Peter, but he had helped him save Cora…and he was still family. He wasn't sure how territorial the new Beacon Hills pack would be, and considering the welcome that Isaac had given _him_, he was pretty sure no one would be terribly happy to see Peter. He decided he'd hold on to this information for the time being. Peter wasn't the one punching holes through people, that he knew for sure. This could wait until the murder investigation was over so the two things didn't get mixed together.

"I haven't either," Derek said as the pair walked back towards the bodies and their friends. "I didn't know if he was still around or not."

Scott shrugged. "Not as far as I know."

"Scott," Stiles said as they approached. "You want me to call my dad? I mean, we should get a crew out here, right?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, give him a call," he answered. Then he gestured toward Lydia, who was still shaking despite the sweatshirt. "And maybe take Lydia back to the jeep, would you? She looks like she's freezing."

"_She_ can hear you and _she_ is just fine, thank you," Lydia said though clattering teeth.

Derek trailed behind as the group trekked back toward the road.

They really were a pack. Derek had been endlessly surprised to see that. But it was true. They were a strange group. Werewolves, humans, hunters, banshees…just incredibly strange. But for whatever reason, they worked.

And Derek knew the reason. It was Scott. They were all bonded to Scott in one way or another. That bond made them family. Derek had always wanted that. And even though he had been reunited with his sister, he didn't feel like they were a family. Not the way that Scott's pack was. He wanted that. He wanted that camaraderie. He had wanted it back when he'd formed his own ill-fated pack, but he was never sure how to achieve it.

Now he wasn't sure he deserved it. Cora deserved it. She had never failed anyone as an Alpha. But Derek? No. He shook his head as he stepped out on the road, listening as Stiles called his father and Cora snidely remarked on Lydia's hiking attire. No, he wasn't Alpha material and right now he wasn't sure he was even beta material.

He wasn't sure of anything right now, other than that there was some sort of killer lurking in the forest. Something that could either disguise its scent…or that smelled like trees.

…_to be continued…_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf, nor do I profit in this story other than working at becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the creative genius Jeff Davis and the various copyright holders.

A/N: See? Car crash. Totally needed its own chapter, lol. Can you guys believe we're only 8 weeks away from new episodes? Crazy right? Because with the holidays setting in and such, the next few months are gonna fly by. Here's to hoping I can get to the end of this before then because I'm afraid the new information is going to make me second guess my outline. So I have A LOT of writing to do here. Keep your eyes peeled for more frequent updates and I try to get this rolling right along.

So on top of writing this story, I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month. For those of you who don't know what that is (google it, lol), it pretty much means writing a whole novel, 50,000 words, in 30 days. Sheesh, right? So I'm doing that. I'm thinking about putting up the story through fictionpress, if anyone would be interested in reading some of my original work. If enough of you are interested, I'll do that and update it throughout November. Thanks in advance for the review.


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